Stranded. Prologue.

I’ve always been taught to respect others; that’s the main rule. The one I’ve followed all my life. I’m a gentleman. If you ask anyone for a character reference who knows me, they’d say the same. I hold doors open; I knock before entering a room.

I’m the last to sit at dinner, and the fork doesn’t enter my mouth until everyone else has started to eat. The cutlery must sit right, in the correct position. I use a napkin.

I stand when someone enters a room and welcome people, friend or stranger. The latter will usually become an associate. They’ll learn to trust me, and I’ll do anything for anyone.

I dress impeccably, and I compliment everyone. I may comment on the style of a person’s hair, their earrings, their beautiful dress, pressed shirt or elegant jacket. I’ll tell them how amazing they are, how I admire what they’re doing. I’ll talk about their beautiful family, and I’ll listen. That’s another trait of mine. If someone has something to talk about, I’ll give a hundred per cent concentration to what they’re saying. If it’s important to them, it’s important to me. I make eye contact, I make the person feel special. At ease. Everyone has a voice and we’re all unique in our own special way.

I never tell a rude joke, and I always laugh when someone says something funny. Of course, that’s once everyone else is laughing.

I haven’t laughed since the night it happened. Something snapped that night. See, I hate people who do wrong and go unpunished. It’s the major flaw in life. My main bugbear. It drives me crazy, insane, psychotic. I can’t control the rage as it builds inside my body. An error cannot occur without consequences.

So really there is only one way to deal with the anger.

I’m not a believer in waiting, in hearing people say that they’ll get their day or karma will come to their door. I will bring that day to them.

I have to discipline the injustice. Tonight.

It’s the only way.