Everyone just watched. Everyone just stood around and watched. It didn’t matter if it was a shack that reeked of sea, or the highest class brothel. People were all the same: they did nothing, except for the ones who rended everyone else through their brittle, vicious fingers.

What should she do? What could she do? It was the second question that typically stilled her in helpless rage. She couldn’t hit him, she’d thought, because he was a helpless old man on the brink of death.

But she’d hit him, and he just dragged as relentlessly as the tide … and dug his words deeper than his nails. She dug her heels into the floor, leaving scrapes on the polished wood as she dragged.

“Rotten!” she laughed, though there was no smile – only teeth, and volume. “You! Call me rotten! Simon’s dead because he took after you!” she raged, yanking her arm back hard.