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‘Hi, I’m Thomas,’ says the surfer guy, bestowing me with a charming smile and reaching out a tanned paw to shake my hand.

‘Hi, Thomas.’

‘So… have you been to Bali?’

‘Sorry, I was just—’ I gesture vaguely behind me, already walking away.

It’ll take some time for the drugs to have an effect– and I’m not spending it talking to him.

I head outside and walk the length of the street.

I pick out a familiar face– Kyle, of all people, dancing in a bit of an ick way with a woman who seems legitimately into him.

To each their own. I wonder how he heard about the party.

Doesn’t matter. Kyle may have been the subject of my first little violent thought on the way here, but he’s nothing to me now.

Not even deserving of the energy of a violent thought.

Not like Serena, who I’m about to hold underwater as she fights, because she will definitely fight, no matter how drugged…

The nachos smell amazing, and two servers in Island Vibes aprons keep bringing them out, but I don’t have the stomach for food right now.

Instead, I keep looking at the dark horizon beyond town where I know the ocean lies waiting.

In the brief pauses between songs, I can hear the waves. It sounds like they’re shouting.

The DJ has people dancing the Electric Slide when I head back inside the restaurant. It’s almost too simple; Serena is slumped in one of the chairs. Thomas, who’s nowhere in sight, has clearly moved on.

‘Hey.’ I jostle her arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you up.’

‘Oooo-eeee,’ she says, grimacing as she prises open her eyelids. ‘I’m feeling…’

‘Yeah, that daiquiri was strong, huh? Let’s get some air.’

‘OK,’ she says.

I loop my arm through hers, and she leans on me as we leave the restaurant. I scan for familiar faces, but see none. Good. I keep walking, leading Serena towards the beach. I won’t look behind us to check if anyone is watching. This is an innocent walk.

‘Where are we going?’ Serena finally says, as we take the first step off the harder path and on to cool sand. The air is noticeably colder here.

‘Just a little walk on the beach.’

She comes along like an obedient pet.

The waves are loud. The water is dark, with occasional flashes from the moon, which is playing peek-a-boo with some ragged clouds.

‘Take off your shoes, you don’t want to get them wet,’ I say when we’re a few feet away from the water.

That will make it look like her swim was intentional.

I kick my shoes off, too. She unburdens herself from her purse, and turns towards the waves.

Quickly, I move the pill bottle from my purse to hers.

I’m still calm. I imagine the adrenaline will kick in at some point. Just not yet.

Serena steps out of her sandals. ‘Oooh, are we going swimming?’

Could she make this any easier?

As I settle our shoes and purses together, she prances into the water all by herself, laughing as the waves splash up around her knees, then her thighs.

I follow, still keeping a little distance, as if I really were watching out for her. I don’t turn to see if anyone has followed us, but just in case, I say loudly, ‘Don’t go any further! You’re too drunk, Serena!’

‘I feel fiiiiine,’ she says, tipping over a little bit. Then, a wave hits her just so, and she kind of sinks sideways.

Now.

I take two big steps forward.

‘Serena!’ I cry, still playing to an imaginary audience.

From a distance, it might look like she was falling and I was trying to catch her.

But my hands find what I think is her back, and I push down.

There’s no final moment of us making eye contact, or me seeing the fear in her face, or any of those silly cinematic moments.

Just her tipping and me bearing my weight into her back from above, and then grabbing her by the neck and the hair and holding her down.

The ocean thrashes around me, alive and hungry. Waves come up against my body; water splashes my face, stinging. Salty.

Her legs kick desperately, her feet graze my thighs, but since she’s underwater, everything is gentle, more like a caress.

I feel her body convulse, like it’s trying to spasm its way towards air.

My own lungs feel desperate, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath too.

Living through what she’s living through, as if my body is trying to stay connected to the gravity of what I’m doing.

She manages to get her head up out of the water and gasp in one swallow of air, but her face isn’t to me, just the slick wet back of her head. I force her down again.

‘Hey!’ I hear behind me, in the distance.

Daniel. I’d know his voice anywhere.

Now adrenaline spikes, but I stay still, keeping my grip on Serena firm as her head bobs from side to side, still fighting, still trying to find air. I don’t turn to look at Daniel.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be nursing his wounds with a pina colada or three at the fucking Sunset. And yet, his presence here feels inevitable, like the finale to the dance we’ve been doing since that first morning by the coffee.

And while there’s dread, there’s also relief.

Finally.

No more hiding.

Let him see who I really am.

That’s where this has all been leading.

I’m here for truth and justice too, Daniel , I’ll tell him when I pull Serena’s lifeless corpse from the waves and he says ‘Why?’– which of course he will. Every good finale has a why, when everything is laid bare, and I suppose Daniel and I deserve no less.

The truth (I’ll say) is that Serena peddles harmful substances for profit, and almost killed a child this morning. The justice (I’ll tell him) is this: her death.

And then, Daniel’s body is rocketing into mine with all its solidity and strength.

I lose my grip on Serena just as a monstrous wave sends me tumbling under.

For a second, I’m submerged, sucking in water, with black above and black below, but then my feet find the sandy bottom, and I push off, coming up spluttering.

‘It was you!’ Daniel shouts. ‘I can’t fucking believe it!’

He’s already a good distance away from me. He’s hooked his arms under Serena’s armpits and is dragging her to shore.

‘You’re too late,’ I shout, making for shore too, dress streaming water, hair like a wet snake down my back. ‘She’s already dead.’