Malcolm's decision became pretty simple when the remnants of the plane exploded. Anything useful on there was most likely gone, and even if it wasn't, it was going to cost a lot more than just risk and energy in order to get back there. Just the sight of distant body parts was enough to solidify Malcolm's choice. There was no way he was swimming out; he'd simply never get passed the trauma. Malcolm's facial expression twisted into desperation. He'd been told by all of his brothers that in times of emergencies and danger never to panic and that a clear mind could be the difference between life and death. That advice wasn't on his mind at the moment.<br/><br/>"Oh my God... fuck...<span style="font-style: italic">Fuck!</span>" Malcolm began shouting the curse word as he spoke. Malcolm's thoughts rested with his family and his future, two things he was now maybe permanently separated from. Malcolm felt a weight on him, now severely, he could hardly stand. Everything about it seemed surreal, to the point where the adrenaline of the situation wasn't enough. "Wake up..." Malcolm pleaded to himself in a whisper, but he already knew that he wasn't going to be that lucky. All of his will wished that he would wake up on that plane, landing in Hawaii.<br/><br/>Malcolm forced slow breaths. Help would come, right? All he had to do was wait a few hours. Malcolm mustered up the courage to stand strongly again, catching his second wind of survival instinct. He'd heard some voice in the distance, though he hadn't registered them during the initial shock.<br/><br/>"Hello? Who else made it?" Malcolm yelled, exercising his lungs to their fullest. He knew he'd feel better seeing people, and not pieces of them instead.