This is about as fucked as it could get. I never asked for this, but I should have seen it coming, but when you look at the world through rose-colored glasses, the red flags look like flags.

John struggles against the current of the river that was never known to be still and calm. With each stroke of the ore, it kicks it back to tell him that this is all futile, to assure him of the painful death that is to come.

This is not where he saw himself when he was a child.