Reina's POV

I stared across at the teeming sea. The water caressed the rocks beneath my feet and retreated, as though teasing. I would step forward and it would recede and when I stepped back, as though timed, the sea moved again, to pull in the tide, lapping at the jagged rocks that were underneath me. It was like the sea was playing a game with me.

I stopped playing. I inched closer to the edge of the rock cliff.

I jumped.

It was a simple plan. I was sure I wouldn't feel it, the pain. My lungs would burn, but afterwards, I supposed, it would be peace. Calm.

It was supposed to be like that.

I was sinking to the bottom, struggling for breath. As soon as I hit the water, it opened and sucked me inside, pulling me to the bottom. I had jumped off the cliff. The force was enough to push me down.

But I did not protest, did not struggle. This struggle was commonly known as swimming. To struggle would mean I tried to swim. I did not.

The sun had not risen over the coastal landscape of Menorca Island, with no light from the sun to reflect on the surface of the sea, so it was dark when I dropped and continued to drop to the bottom. As I planned to close my eyes, drifting to the bottom, I noticed a powerful form head in my in my direction.

A shark...How lovely, I thought dazedly as I closed my eyes and let the cool water into my lungs.

When I awoke, I knew I wasn't in the afterlife. The earth behind my back was solid. Day was breaking and the sounds of seagulls filled my ears. A slight breeze blew and sand stuck to my wet body… and... another wet body was hovering over mine.

I jumped as soon as I noticed the huge form above me. My head hit the other person's and I groaned, rubbing my forehead as I sat up on the sand. The form above me was rubbing their own head too, a swear leaving their throat.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I mumbled. My eyes focused on the person before me. It was a man.

He was breathtaking.

And going by the way his clothes were wet like mine was, he must have gone into the water to pull me out.

But why would he? Was he a lifeguard or something. And even if he was, couldn't he respect a suicide attempt? I thought, my mind struggling to focus. It didn't help that he was so close to me.

He wore a light, white shirt over black shorts. He had sandy blonde hair and his eyes were dark brown, so deep his pupils could be mistaken for black. His face was a chiseled masterpiece and soft, sensuous pink lips curved as he said something. I didn't know what he said. I wasn't concentrating.

He rose from his squatting position and pulled me up firmly. "Come with me," he said authoritatively.

I stared and blinked. I pulled back.

"Do you need to be told twice?" He asked me, the lines of his expressionless face hard. The look he threw me seemed to me like I was in trouble.

He looked like he was going to arrest me or something.

I shook my head. I didn't need to be told twice.

In Spain, the current legislation allowed euthanasia or assisted suicide under a few conditions. Forget meeting these conditions, I was doing this on my own, not assisted.

The law allows adults who suffer a "serious or incurable illness" or a "chronic or incapacitating" condition that causes "intolerable suffering," to end their own lives. Earlier, before the law's passage, helping somebody to die in Spain was potentially punishable with a jail term of up to 10 years.

Also, one had to make a request, twice in writing- fifteen days apart- to an actual doctor to do it for them with medical help. A doctor could reject the request if the requirements had not been met. This request must be approved by a second medic and by an evaluation body.

I had a doctor. But my doctor would not grant my request, withdrawing on grounds of conscience. He was allowed to do that.

But I thought he must want me to suffer, rejecting my wish.

I didn't know so many other people- doctors. If my own personal doctor would decide not to help me, then it was a gamble to find some other doctor whom I didn't even know.

I couldn't just ask a random person to take my life. They would think it was a set-up.

And so I had decided to do this myself. I had timed it perfectly: At dawn, atop a cliff where no one was likely to notice me- not this early anyway. It was a good plan.

But someone had caught me.

He now walked down the beach in front of me on this beautiful Island.

Menorca was the second largest of the Balearic islands in the Mediterranean Sea, situated off the coast of Northern Spain. The island was 216 kilometers wide, having a varied coastline: rugged shores and reddish beaches to the north, and a gentler relief to the south, sporting golden sandy coves.

Menorca held a charm of its own with its white sand beaches and rocky coves. It was just about 130 miles off the coast of Spain, with daily flights all year round to and from Menorca and the mainland city of Barcelona and Palma de Mallorca. It was a beautiful island.

What a place to die.

I watched my rescuer's back, as the muscles flexed with his movements. He looked like any other beach person, like a local- a hot one at that- dressed for a day at the beach. But the light chain on his neck glistened in the approaching light of the sun. It looked genuine, like the solid gold wristband on his left.

He did not say anything as we walked.

Some locals were making their way down the hill to the beach. There were some ferries on the water, approaching after an early fishing trip or preparing to sail.

My gaze traveled to the cliff I had jumped off; at the height. Jagged rocks shot from below the plain of the cliff. I shuddered. What was I thinking? A little to the left and my skull would lie cracked open at the base.

The idea had not been to go, dramatically painfully. My life was already not easy to begin with. I had just wanted to end it all and do it as smoothly as possible. The aim had not been to traumatize whoever was going to see my dead body.

Worse, what if I wasn't successful- as this attempt was now...What if I was not successful and I maimed myself for life and still had to live with the guilt of having done so. That was definitely worse than what I was currently going through.

I ambled on behind the mysterious stranger.

He didn't turn to see if I was catching up, if I had it easy meeting his wide strides. He continued to walk on. We climbed the small hill that led into the main, paved road. We passed by one of the upscale restaurants, close to the beach area that catered to the swarming tourist populace that frequented the beach side. We walked inside. I was surprised it was open at minutes past six in the morning, but was dazzled by the interiors.

White, fluorescent light boxes dotted the ceiling of the spacious ground floor while backed steel-and-cushion stools surrounded glass and steel tables. Flowers in stunning pure-white ceramic pots occupied the corners of the hall and a floral arrangement decorated the ordering counter.

A few people were seated already, waiting for their early morning order of coffee or tea or decaf and pastry, probably.

Mystery Man stopped at a chair. My attention snapped back to him. He nodded to a chair, still in that monosyllabic manner. "Sit."

I sat down.