It looked like a crab trap with a trailing rope. The rope was around the legs of a woman. Her long black hair trailed behind her. He thought, ‘Someo...e is being killed or has been killed.’ He swam rapidly for her. Her eyes were wide open and she was trying to free herself from the rope. He grabbed her face and pushed his mouthpiece in her mouth. He made sure she was breathing, then drew his dive knife and cut the ropes holding her to the trap. He held her down. They did not want to be popping up. It had taken almost two years to fully break her. He’d watched her, day after day, watched the fight leave her, the acceptance swim in. Slowly, slowly, the hope died away. In those two years he never clothed her, he hardly spoke to her, and never her name. He bathed her daily, shaved her legs, armpits, and pussy every other day. The fact that even after seven years with him she still blushed hotly when he decided to take the task over now and then made him chuckle. He’d seen the signs of. More

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