She inhaled that grey stench, the odour that foretold of tar-infested lungs and her future death-bed. There was something rotten in her eyes as she took each drag, as if she perversely lured on that morbid end to punish those who had caused her pain, the mother who herself had suffered so much abuse all her days and the father whose brain was addled from corporal punishments and lack of affection. She had been a drowning victim since childhood, it is true, yet now in adulthood she cursed those who struggled beneath her feet in their own Davy-Jones-locker chains rather than striving for fresh air and sunshine.