The salty sea air was suffocating, stifling, far from the relieving atmosphere I'd been referred to a rather irksome amount of times. The pecant odors left me balking, jerking my head left and right spastically as gusts of wind reeled in to avoid the fetid stench that seemed to burn its way down my esophogus.

The riveting waves, rather than calming me, crashed onto the Earth in a repetitious pattern that took no long time in getting bored of. Rather, I found myself in search of a spot on this god-forsaken place in which I might successfully avoid their blows. No such luck yet.

No matter how far away I ran, trotted, even crawled, the icy cold depths reached out to me, in search of me. They were inescapable, and I was in Hell. My mental Abaddon.

What (and who) did I have to pay to get out?

A/N: As seems to have become tradition with me, I have what I can only consider a fragment (small as it is, it's still too large to be a drabble and certainly too small to be anything else) written in the bland time period spent sitting, waiting for dismissal during a final exam. Remind me to thank my glorious English teacher for allowing me to keep those random sheets of paper I wrote on later... Alas, that's Schillaci for you.