"Sir, nothing on this side!"
"We checked the western waters too. Still nothing!"
The radio kept spitting out bad news. Douglas slammed his fist against the wheel, his knuckles turning white.
Why? Why did he only realize what mattered after it was already gone?
Night fell, and the search had to stop for the time being. Douglas sat alone in the cabin, staring out at the pitch-black ocean.
One of his men carefully handed him a piece of bread. "Sir, you haven't eaten all day..."
Douglas pushed it away, grabbed a bottle instead, and drank straight from it.
The burn of the liquor tore down his throat, but it did nothing to ease the regret eating him alive.
"I'm such an asshole..." he let out a bitter laugh and took another swig. "I cared about her... I really did..."
Douglas remembered
