And I can clearly see...

her severed arm in its mouth.

[gasps, sighs]

You had that terrible feeling in your stomach.

And thank God she managed to get really deep in that crack.

She was moving very badly, slowly, very weak.

She's bleeding. That smell's in the water.

There's quite a distance to the den.

Are these sharks gonna pitch up again?

I thought about helping her back physically to the den.

But, luckily, I didn't need to.

I didn't know...

what was gonna happen to her or if this would make her weak and vulnerable,

and they'd finish her off that night.

And I couldn't help feeling...

had I been responsible for this?

Was she out because I was there?

I felt very vulnerable.

As if somehow what happened to her had happened to me in some strange way.

And then this almost felt, psychologically, like I was...