Steven sat on the ground with his feet in the water. He had been trying to wash the blood off his hands, it wasn't his. There was still some on his face and in his hair from where he had run his fingers through his hair in a stress based response to the chaos around him. He finally started to look at the scene that had developed. He saw a person who must have really injured his leg, and many people just trying to find their suitcases. Steven assumed his had been destroyed, even if it hadn't there was nothing in there that would help him in this case. He took something out of his pocket, it was the return ticket dated 2 days from now. It suddenly hit him that he wouldn't be needing this, he wasn't going to make that plane. This led him to think of the chances of survival. As he stared out into the seemingly endless ocean he began to panic internally. Realizing he'll probably die out here a few tears streamed down his face. He tore the ticket in two and dropped it into the water.

He stood up and wiped the tears from his face, some blood making it's way onto the hoodie he was wearing. He turned around and saw that something of a group had started to congregate. He slowly made his way closer to the aircraft and the rest of the survivors, his mind still racing.