I could not hate myself anymore than I did right then as I paddled for my life.

Between the mosquitoes dancing in out of my ears, the thick wood threatening to slip out of my hands, and my complete ignorance of how to steer at all, I had more than once contemplated simply letting it happen.

My arms were burning something awful and I was sure I was going nowhere. Somehow my heart managed to sink even deeper into my chest.

Due to my inexperience, I was really struggling to use both oars while I not such a numb skull as to believe I could accomplish anything with just one, I could barely lift them together.

At some point in my frantic and blind race back to the shore I adopted a very slow left and right motion, one arm and then the other.

With each splash, which I could nothing to silence, the shrill note rose in intensity, more than once I had felt jolt from beneath the hull.