He must have watched me from a safe distance, like a crocodile observing its prey, his eyes hovering just above the dark, silver tinted water.
I was the perfect victim, oblivious and distracted by the promise of an awesome summer. It was January, the first night of our two week, annual, family holiday at Bob's Bay; a secluded spot on the southwest coast of Australia that is so remote there is no electricity or running water.
My sister, Lauren, and I had snuck out for a midnight swim, our first-night ritual. We were messing around in the water like a pair of hyper dolphins, laughing and splashing, anticipating the next day where we'd planned on visiting a couple of kids our age from the other shacks further up the coast.
I can still remember the last words my sister and I shared.
'Can't believe you're seventeen next week,' said Lauren. She flicked her long, wet hair in my direction and it landed over her shoulder like a golden rope. 'One more year and you're legal like me. We can go clubbing and stuff.'
'I know,' I said, hesitantly, and she laughed so I tacked on a 'Yay!' and pumped a feeble fist into the air.
'Ha! You're such a grandma, Randy,' she said, splashing me. 'You must be the only teenager alive who'd rather stick their nose in a book than go out.'
I shrugged and averted my eyes.