40
NOAH: Three months earlier
I try shakingher from my mind, but the more I shake, the more I set her free.
“Dad!” I call out, gripping my head as I step onto the yacht that used to be my prison. It’s since been renamed…KNOT MISSING.
Oh, the irony.
Andoooh… my fucking head!
My arm twitches at my side, like a wire sparking beneath my skin. I shake it out, but it twitches again, sharp, involuntary, like my body’s trying to flinch away from a memory.
Noah, would you calm down?she says, her voice zipping through my brain.
I shake my head harder. “I don’t want to be here. Can wepleaseleave?”
This is the last place I ever wanted to be again. I swore I’d never step foot back on this boat. Every instinct in me is screaming to run—but that’s how this survives. And I’m done letting it survive.
Soon, Noah. Soon.
I slap the front of my head. God, I wish she would shut up and leave me alone.
“Noah? Welcome back, son.”
My head snaps up as Dad rounds the corner with the confidence of a lion—hisboat,hisworld—but his smirk falters the moment he sees the knife in my hand.
“What are you doing?” He laughs, like this is a joke.
LikeI’ma joke.
I am no fucking joke.
That’s right, Noah. You can do this.
I grip my forehead. “Pleeease be quiet!” I hiss under my breath. My arm twitches again.
Putain!
Putain!
Putain!
“Well, just look at you,” Dad sneers. “Still as pretty as I remember.”
His words scrape against my nerves. I take another step closer, watching the confidence crack in his face.
He’s afraid. Good.
I want him afraid.
I’ve spent my whole fucking life afraid!
“Meera!” Mom squeals from behind him, and he abruptly turns.
And that’s when I pounce.
I plunge the knife into his back. Again. And again. And again.
