Slowly I drift back to awareness
My head feels fuzzy, as if not a part of me
And it does not matter how hard I try
I cannot move, not even my fingers

‘Ahh, you’re finally back with us’
I have heard that voice before, somewhere
But try as I might I could not remember
‘You cannot move, the drugs take care of that’

Another voice that seemed familiar
‘Besides you are buried up to your neck in sand’
A third voice and I almost had it
Where had I heard those voices before?

When they walked into my view I knew
If I could have moved I would have been shaking with fear
These were the last three of a long line of women
Women I had beaten, raped and left for dead

I knew begging was of no use, yet I still begged
I realised I was halfway between low and high water mark
Tears were streaming down my face as I pleaded
Yet their faces remained stony, cold and hard

I could hear them behind me having a picnic
While low tide turned and crept up the beach
I screamed my pleas as the waves crashed over me
But all I heard over the waves was their cruel laughter

Wave after wave crashed over me prolonging my agony
Until the last wave that that did not retreat