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Our yachts slam into each other with a loud screech—the sound of scraping metal rings in the air.
The sound soothes my broken soul. I don’t even care about my precious yachts anymore. They all deserve to be cast down to the depths of the ocean. I even blame my ships for Kai’s death. They didn’t save her either.
I watch as men fall over
board into the choppy water, most likely to their deaths.
Men I would have jumped into the water to save before. They were my crew. I would have risked my life for them; I would have died for them.
But now, I wouldn’t risk my pinky finger to save them.
I walk forward to where our ships are locked together. I step across the gap and onto their ship. The sky still rains down on me; the wind whips through me. I should be freezing from chilled water; instead, I burn of fire.
I walk straight to the bridge, calmly withdraw my favorite gun, and fire.
The rain makes it easier for me to kill them. I shoot them dead before they can even lift their weapons in my direction. But it makes each kill less personal, and this is as personal as it gets.
I should torture each and every one of them before I kill them. But I don’t have the energy. And I have far too many men to kill to waste time with torture.
I fire over and over—through the rain.
The only indications I’ve hit my targets are when each man falls to the ground in a heap.
Not one man has fired back at me.
Not one man has fought back.
I feel invincible in this moment. Maybe I’m really not capable of dying. Which would be a shame since I feel like dying. I need the end to come. I need to return to the ground, or maybe the sea—become worm or fish food.
I march into the boat's decks, taking out man after man. The rain no longer provides me cover in the depths of the ship, so a few men get shots off before they succumb. But they all die.
I step over a body as I walk to the back of the ship, where I find no more traitors. Everyone is dead.
I walk through the entire ship twice, ensuring I didn’t miss a single person.
Finally, I’m satisfied no one escaped my wrath. But I don’t feel any weight lifting. I thought that killing those who betrayed us would make me feel better, even a minuscule amount better. But it didn’t.
There is no recovering from this kind of heartbreak. Nothing will make me feel better. I’m not doing this to heal. I’m doing this for Kai. For my baby.
I crack my neck back and forth, trying to release the tension I feel as I put my gun back into my pants. I didn’t even have to draw a second gun. Or pull out a knife.
It was too easy.
How disappointing.
I want a fight—a battle. I want to feel something—even if it’s rage.
I walk back up onto the top deck, the rain has started to lighten, as if it knows it is no longer necessary to pour down because everyone is dead.
I stare at the two yachts both damaged from the impact. It’s going to be hard to steer either one out of this storm.
I sigh.
Might as well get to work trying to separate them and see which one has less damage.
But then I see something.
A flicker of a shadow through the rain.
