Simon Bugeja winces as he tries to lift his bandaged leg on the footstool, then sighs and slumps back in the sofa with a resigned smile that reveals a scab on his lower lip.
His face sports days-old stubble and his light brown eyes gaze blankly into the distance. His right thigh, both his calves and feet are bandaged, except for his toes, which are covered in flaky, peeling skin.
"I needed skin grafts because after days at sea the fish laid eggs in my calf muscles," he says, speaking slowly in a matter-of-fact voice.
Surrounded by his wife, Sharon, and his relatives at his Marsaxlokk home, it's hard to imagine how this 35-year-old fisherman survived seven days at sea, with no water or food, battling the scorching sun by day and freezing temperatures at night.
"My son Theo kept me alive. When you have children you are possessed by so much love, that I wanted to protect him. I have nothing special; I'm just a normal guy," he says, trying to come to terms with what could have triggered the explosion that rocked his fishing boat, the Simshar, on Friday, July 11.
The tragedy at sea stole the lives of all his crew - Theo, 11; his father Karmenu, 61; Noel Carabott, 33; and Somali Abdulrahman Abdala Gedi, 21.
The Simshar tragedy, which gripped the nation, has sparked numerous conspiracy theories as to what could have happened. Stories that his son could have been kidnapped or sold have spread like wild fire, but Simon sticks to his original story: Theo died and slipped from his hands.
This is the first time that Simon is talking to the media and though he is keen to share his story, his relatives make it clear that there will no talk of anything else, "because of the two inquiries underway".
As a result, several questions remain unanswered. Talk of the Vessel Monitoring System, possible retaliation from Sicilians, and illegal fishing is out of bounds.
Simon is even uncomfortable talking about how Karmenu, Noel and Abdulrahman passed away, but otherwise forthcoming on his battle for survival. This is his story.
On the morning of July 11, the crew was returning to Malta after four uneventful days fishing for swordfish. Noel and Abdulrahman were asleep in the cabin and Karmenu prepared some pot noodles for Theo and Simon before going down to rest after spending the night stacking the fishing lines.
Alone with Theo, Simon settled at the front of the boat preparing the floats for when the lampuki season opens in mid-August. Theo was like his shadow, following his father wherever he went.
"Theo would often accompany me on the boat in his summer holidays. He reminds me of when I was a boy," he said, a sad expression clouding his face, as he recalled the days he spent on the boat with his father and grandfather.
"I did six lampuki seasons with my grandfather. I was obsessed with the sea. Fishing runs in our family's veins; it's all I know," he adds wistfully, looking up as his six-year-old son Aden jumps on the sofa.
The Simshar was on automatic pilot, and about 1 p.m. Simon decided to inspect the boat to ensure everything was under control.
"When I went past the engines I smelt an odd smell. It was not a burning odour. To this day, I still have no idea what that smell was," he recounts.
Sensing that something was wrong he decided to wake up the others and that's when an explosion rocked the boat and a raging fire engulfed the Simshar.
"It's as if the gates of hell opened. We couldn't move back past the bridge and the fire forced us to the bow. We had no choice: either burn to death or swim for our lives," he says.
"We had no chance of getting anything from the stern, where all our equipment was. Luckily, we had picked up some floats en route and there was some Jablo up front, so we made a makeshift raft," Simon says, rubbing his bandaged thigh.
He is still baffled as to what could have led to the explosion and he keeps mulling over the incident, wishing he could turn back the clock.
Once in the sea, the crew tried to remain together "as a family", shouting out for help.
"Noel and I were shouting the names of our wives and Theo was crying for his mummy. After that all we could do was pray to Our Lady of the Rosary."
During the first few hours their strength and hope of rescue were still high, but when a blanket of darkness enveloped them their morale took a dip. Temperatures plummeted and fears gripped the small crew.
Previous articles report that Abdulraham died the next day, Noel succumbed to the sea two days after the incident and Karmenu was next to die, leaving Simon and Theo hanging on for dear life.
Simon tied the net of floats around his waist to keep himself afloat, allowing him to have his hands free to hold on to Theo.
"I didn't tie Theo. I didn't want the rope to cut into his soft, fragile skin. You kiss and hug your son not tie him. I wanted to leave my hands free. I'm scared to swim out there, let alone my son," he says trying hard not to cry, as he lifts his loose T-shirt to reveal a bandage wrapped around his waist.
"When you are familiar with the big fish you catch it's scary. Luckily, I didn't encounter any," he says.
"Theo filled me with courage. We spent time chatting. We'd talk about his brother, mother and cousins. He felt safe in my hands. He slept a lot. I would try hard to keep my eyes open, but at times it was impossible."
Through the endless days at sea, Simon held on strong to Theo, constantly splashing him with water to cool him down and recounting stories to distract his son from focusing on his rumbling stomach.
"Theo cried for food and water. What kept me alive was my effort to distract my son's attention from his hunger pangs and thirst. I told him mummy would come to save us. The poor boy dreamt he was eating," he says.
"I never drank anything. From experience I know seawater is like poison... I would pray to the Lord to send us a fish... but nothing.
"The hardest ordeal was the night. All you hear is the sea lapping around you. It was freezing cold and I tried hard to lift Theo from the sea and hug him close in an attempt to keep him warm."
After the sixth day, Theo's strength weakened. Night set in and the two drifted at sea. Theo died, but Simon held on. At one point he must have dozed off and when he opened his eyes, Theo had slipped from his hands.
"The night betrayed us. Once he died my life was over. I prayed to the Lord to take me too. Everything was over. Before I had the courage of a lion, now I felt I had nothing else to live for... The Lord must have kept me alive so that I can continue caring for my wife and other son," he says in a subdued tone.
On the seventh day at sea, Simon drifted in and out of consciousness, willing himself to die. Then through his delirium he heard the whirring engine of a boat and he summoned his last ounce of energy to limply move his hand.
On board the Grecale fishing vessel were his uncle and cousin, who jumped into the sea when they realised he was still alive.
"I thought they were angels. When they gave me some water it felt as if I was drinking holy water... The doctor told me that had I spent another two hours in the sea I would have been dead," he says.
Simon was airlifted to safety and when his wife saw her husband he was unrecognisable - his scorched skin looked baked and was peeling.
"I was shocked when I saw him. He was swollen and barely talking. His lips were black and swollen. His nose was peeling. We spent a night by his side and he was mumbling incoherently and shaking with cold," she recalls.
Simon spent four days in the hospital's intensive care unit before being shifted to the burns unit. He was discharged on Saturday and is slowly on the mend. Will he ever return to the sea?
"I'll try to steer clear from the sea for a while. Until they find my son it's very hard to go back... I have faith the fishermen will find him. The sea is my life," he says, still living in hope that his son's body will be found.
The Bugeja family want to thank Salvu Ellul of Elbros, Charles Azzopardi of Azzopardi Fisheries, Fish and Fish, Fisheries Cooperative president Ray Bugeja, Rural Affairs Minister George Pullicino, Randolph Spiteri from the ministry, Jesmond Baldacchino (Simon's cousin), and all those who helped in any way and prayed for the family.