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A little bit of an island off the east coast of Brisbane, Australia, with my partner.

Let's call her Lily. Our house was a lovely mainland facing house. The entire front of the

house is practically glass doors and windows to fully appreciate the view. We moved to the island

for cheap rent and to be closer to my Lily's mother. She supported us at the time while we were

financially struggling. She was a policewoman of nine years. My commute was minimum two hours to

get to my job in the city, so in order to go to work on time, I would have to wake up at 4am.

My usual morning routine consisted of waking up, showering, coffee-head, getting dressed,

waiting for my ride to the ferry terminal. This usually took somewhere to 20 to 30 minutes in total.

Meanwhile, Lily is in bed asleep. Even though I were heavy work boots and,

in dim all sorts of clumsy, the front door closing was one of the only things that would wake her up.

It acted as an alarm for her to start her day. Just as I leave to start mine.

So cut to the morning of the incident. Normal morning, normal routine. I'm making my way onto

the ferry when I receive a call from Lily. She was whispering in a hush tone, which was very

difficult to understand over loud ferry engines. Hey, what are you doing home? Did I miss your ferry?

What? No, I'm just hopping on now. What do you mean? Are you not home?

Huh? No, it's 4.30am when my way to work. Are you okay?

There is dead silence over the phone. At this point, I'm starting to think the worst.

...