“I forgive you,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the thumb that catches my tears.
Then… I let her go. My hands shake as I move down the hallway, each step thick and heavy, like wading through a storm. But in order to reach the dreams on the other side, I have to walk straight through this nightmare first.
At the far end of the yacht, I reach the railing. The metal is cold beneath my palms. I swing my legs over the edge and close my eyes.
I breathe in.
And out.
And in again.
“Je t’aime, Mother.”
“I love you too, son,” she sobs, her hand closing over mine, as if she can anchor me through the fear she knows I have of the water. “Set her free, Noah. Don’t take her with you, baby. Let her go. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“Don’t worry, Mom.” I look at the dark water and almost laugh. “She doesn’t know how to swim. None of us do.”
“Oh, Noah,” she whispers, releasing my hand.
And I jump.
Straight into the writhing water and the depth of my dreams. Tearing myself free from this prison. Ripping apart the voice that’s webbed through my mind. It’s over. This nightmare—it’s finally fucking over.
“He’ll never touch us again, America! I promise you! He’ll never touch us again!” I shout, breaking the surface and spitting my words into the crashing waves.
Disoriented, I clutch the wooden planks of the dock and hoist myself up, rain lashing down, mingling with my tears.
You got this, baby. Now… run!
My feet slip. My head swims. The dock blurs into the water and sky. I don’t think, don’t plan—my body just moves before my mind can catch up.
And I run… straight through the rain.
41
ELIJAH
I watchin horror as the tremor in his left arm intensifies, his head snapping side to side—too fast, too hard.
“Noah!” I yell, panic cutting through my frustration. “Noah!”
But it’s too late. He’s gone—slipped back into the storm.
He drops to the floor, curling in on himself, knees drawn tight to his chest. He rocks back and forth, back and forth, humming through his teeth—a sound that makes my skin crawl with helplessness. For a moment, I can’t think. My mind blanks, refuses to catch up to what my eyes are seeing.
Then instinct kicks in.
I shake out my hands, drop to my knees, and grab his shoulders, trying to hold him still. His skin is clammy. His eyes are screwed shut, lashes trembling.
“Don’t go there, Noah,” I whisper. “Don’t you dare go back in that rain.”
He doesn’t respond—just hums louder, the sound vibrating through his chest like it’s coming from somewhere deeper than his lungs.
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, but this—this terrifies me. Not because he’s breaking, but because I don’t know how to reach him.
I grasp at anything that might though. A memory surfaces—something Gabriel once said.Different people,he’d suggested. The phrase echoes, splitting in my head like a fault line. One voice insists that it can’t be true, that no one just becomes someone else. Another whispers Gabriel’s words, that he’s seen it in the artwork—feltit.
A wild thought strikes.
