I was sitting in the engine room. Sitting in the engine room on the diamond-plate, holding a rag over my thumb. It was bleeding. I had just smashed it in between the one and a half inch ratchet drive and the valve cover and so it was bleeding into my rag. I was sitting like that all by myself, and for the first time I noticed that I was sitting in silence. No generators, no mains screaming. Just silence and my heartbeat throbbing in my eardrums. And then I noticed the most beautiful, perfect thing. I noticed that the pool of blood on the deck was running down into the bilge. And down in the bilge, I had just enough light to see the blood drip and hang on top of the oil for a moment, before the whole thing collapsed upon itself and swallowed my blood. The oil healed itself and waited for more blood. But I was bleeding into a rag now. The oil would have to wait. I was wounded, and I was all alone, and I wasn't going anywhere.