Night fell as Penelope walked away from the palace. She needed to stop thinking so much. She missed Odysseus so much it hurt. She knew she ought to pick a suitor and let it rest. Either he had perished at sea or simply did not desire to come home. She couldn't blame him. Beautiful nymphs lay in wait along the way, that surely surpassed her in every way. She wept silent tears as she walked on through the countryside as the crickets chirped.
She slipped off her sandals and left bare footprints in the sand. The waves were gentle that night, just as they were when she stepped out of the Spartan palace so many years ago. She lay in the sand and let the waves carry her. She heard nothing but the gentle movements of the ocean, and saw nothing but the night sky. She drifted out. She wished that the sea would carry her away from this mess, out to the vast unknown where Odysseus wandered. She almost envied him. He was unknown, therefore free to do as he pleased. She had a feeling he was alive, but somehow felt that he didn't want to come home. Tears still fell from her eyes, mixing with the cold water. She hadn't done this in years, and never realized how peaceful she could feel. The water caressed and numbed her and she finally found the strength to smile. She closed her eyes once more, and Ithaca disappeared. It was only her and the sea.

"Hey, it's Pele- penelel- pelenope! What're you doing out here girlie?"

It was Cacius, one of the suitors.

She wished she could ignore him but knew he would only take advantage of her passiveness. She rose from the water.

"Have you finally decided to be a fool somewhere other than my palace?"

He stumbled toward her as she emerged from the sea. She was much taller than him, and at this

point was probably stronger, so she did not fear him.
"Why don't you shut your mouth, girlie?" he slurred. He was a slovenly shadow of what may have once been a man.
She stopped before him, no expression on her face. She didn't show any emotion to him. He did not deserve her anger.
He stumbled forward and fell into her breast. She yanked him away.
"Oh, come off it girlie. Have some fun." He clutched at her dress. She tugged it out of his hands.
"You going to keep those pretty legs crossed another hundred years? He's dead, girlie."
She yanked him by the collar and pulled him up to her face,
"It won't be difficult seeing as my only alternative would be giving myself to scoundrels like you," she said, quietly but firmly, and threw him to the ground.
"Well you're not such a looker yourself, girlie. Be glad someone wants you. No wonder he won't come home to you. I sure as hell wouldn't."
His words felt like a blow to her stomach. This sorry, drunk little man had managed to find her one weakness and run with it. She left without a word, taking slow, measured steps until she was out of his sight, then running the rest of the way back to the palace, tears once again springing from her eyes.
This would never end.