Hellbound. Witch

There had been nothing but water outside the window for a long time. I stared at it, sitting on the sofa with my knees tucked under my chin. Every time the yacht rocked, the horizon shifted slightly, making me feel sick. I wasn’t sure whether it was the motion or the conversation my father clearly considered over.

My phone lay on the table between us. The screen went dark and lit up again whenever I tapped it, even though I knew perfectly well that nothing had changed. I still had no signal. I couldn’t even message someone and pretend, just for a moment, that this was an ordinary trip. That I would send a picture of the sea, complain about being bored, and go home as soon as my father finished his business. Except this time, it wasn’t business. I was the matter he needed to settle.

I adjusted my sleeves, pulling them over my hands. My father sat opposite me, scowling. Usually, I had to ask for even five minutes of his attention. Now I had so much of it that all I wanted was to hide in my cabin and lock the door.

“I’m not marrying him.” The words came out more calmly than I’d expected. Only a few minutes earlier, I’d been crying, but tears hadn’t changed anything. Neither had shouting. My father had simply waited for me to calm down, as though I were a small child who just needed to get it out of her system.

“You’ll meet him first.”

“And then what? Will I be allowed to say I don’t like him?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He glanced at my hands, clenched around the fabric of my sweatshirt, and sighed quietly. I knew that sigh. He always did it when he thought I was behaving like a child and it was about time I grew up.

“This isn’t about whether you like him.”

I laughed nervously, because for a moment I had no idea what else to do.

“Right. He’s only the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I didn’t say the wedding would be tomorrow.”

“But you said there would be a wedding at all!” I shouted, looking away. I hated myself for not being able to hold back the tears.

Before we boarded the yacht, I’d prepared an entire speech, complete with every possible argument against it, all backed by scientific evidence, just as he’d taught me. In my cabin, I’d rehearsed the sentences written in my notebook and promised myself that this time I wouldn’t let him brush me off. A few minutes sitting opposite him had been enough to make me forget half of them.

I was seventeen. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do after high school. Which university to choose, let alone what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d spent my entire childhood travelling, so where was I supposed to live? Stay in the United States? On Crete, where my father came from, or in Georgia, where my mother had grown up? Sometimes even choosing a stupid dress took me days. And he expected me to agree to a husband whose face I wouldn’t recognise in a crowd.

I didn’t know his name. Did he laugh loudly? Did he like chocolate ice cream as much as I did? Did he get angry when someone disagreed with him? Would he still be kind to me when I didn’t live up to his expectations?

“Look at me.” He placed his hand over mine.

I shook my head. I heard his clothes rustle, and then the sofa dipped beside me. My father sat close enough to put his arms around me, but I moved away, pressing myself against the armrest.

“I love you,” he said. “I promised your mother I would do everything I could to keep you safe.”

“Then don’t force me into this.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “How am I supposed to be safe with someone who’s a complete stranger to me?”

“But they’re not strangers to me.”

My throat tightened. He spoke gently, as though he truly cared about me, and I wished he would shout instead. Then I could shout back. Slam something. Decide he was horrible and refuse to speak to him for the rest of the trip. But he sat beside me, surrounding me with the same fatherly love as always.

“This marriage is necessary to keep you safe.”

“What’s it supposed to protect me from? Becoming an old maid? Come back in ten years.” I sniffed.

My father glanced towards the window.

“There are things you wouldn’t understand yet.”

“Then explain them to me! I’m too young for an explanation, but old enough to get married?” I scoffed.

“It isn’t that simple.”

“It is to me!” My voice broke on the last word.

I wiped my cheek with my sleeve, angry with myself for getting nowhere. For a moment, all I could hear was the steady hum of the engines and the faint clinking of glass in a cupboard. It was getting dark outside. Not long ago, the sunlight reflecting off the water had been so bright that I’d had to pull my sunglasses down over my eyes. Now the sea looked like a dark mirror. Normally, I would have wondered whether travelling at night was safe, but all I could think about was how far from land they were taking me.

“If Mum were alive, would you still do this?” The question slipped out before I had time to think about how it would sound.

My father went still. I remembered my mother mostly from photographs. Sometimes I thought I remembered her voice too, but I wasn’t sure whether it came from the handful of recordings I watched on DVD. What I did know was that my father hated it when I brought her up during arguments. I knew her death hurt him just as much as it hurt me, but sometimes I wondered whether things would be different if she were here with us. And this time, I really wanted an answer.

“Your mother would want you alive,” he said at last.

I looked at him. He hadn’t said “happy”. Or “safe”. Just “alive”. I opened my mouth, but before I could ask anything, something struck the yacht so hard that I slid off the sofa. My knees hit the table, and the glass standing on its edge shattered beside my foot. My phone skidded across the tabletop and disappeared underneath it. For a moment, I heard nothing but the dull crash that reverberated through the entire yacht.

My father caught my arm before my face hit the floor.

“Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. My knee ached, but I could move it.

“Did we hit something?” I tried to make out something through the window.

He didn’t answer. He was staring towards the door that led out to the deck.

“Dad?”

He helped me up, gripping my fingers tightly.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“What’s happening?”

“I need to check.” He headed for the deck, and I followed, but he stopped me in the doorway. “Here,” he repeated. “Away from the windows. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for me to agree. The door closed behind him, leaving me alone with broken glass at my feet and my heart beating faster and faster. For a few seconds, I stared at the handle. He’ll be right back. He said he would, I kept telling myself.

The yacht tilted again, far enough this time that I had to brace myself against the wall. More dishes tumbled out of the cupboards. I instinctively stepped back as they shattered on the floor, coming down on a shard with my bare foot. Pain shot through my entire body. Somewhere above me, I heard a shout. I couldn’t make out the words. I wanted to believe someone was simply giving orders, but then another crash followed. The lights went out, flickered back on for a moment, then vanished again.

“Dad!”

This time, I wasn’t going to wait. I reached the door, holding on to the furniture as I went. I pushed down on the handle. The door barely gave way, and cold water immediately rushed inside, washing over my feet. For a moment, I stood frozen, my hand still clenched around the handle, watching the water rise in the corridor.

I started calling for my father, but the only answer was a cracking sound from somewhere deep inside the yacht. Something was breaking. I didn’t want to stay long enough to find out what. I knew that if I didn’t get up on deck immediately, I would never get out at all.

I tried to reach the stairs, pressing my hand against the wall. The water had already soaked my trousers up to my thighs. My injured foot burned with every step, while the other slipped on the uneven surface.

“He’s not here.” Anger pounded in my ears. “He told me to stay. He promised he’d come back, but he was nowhere to be found. He was supposed to protect me, and he left me.”

On the next step, I fell to my knees. I grabbed the handrail and pulled myself up, pain shooting through my shoulder. I climbed the following step almost on all fours. I couldn’t think about anything except getting out. I had to get up there and find my father, or someone who could tell me what to do.

The wind hit my face as I pushed the door open. Every part of the deck looked like a battlefield. One sun lounger lay overturned by the railing, while another slid across the boards. I thought I could see holes in places. Were those marks on the walls blood?

“Dad!” I screamed again.

I thought someone answered from the other end of the yacht. I turned my head, searching for him through the spray, but saw only empty space. I took a step in that direction.

The yacht lurched so violently that I lost my footing. My hip struck the railing. I reached out, trying to hook my fingers around it, but they slid over the wet surface. For a fraction of a second, I managed to get a grip. A moment later, I was in the water.

The cold stole my breath. I opened my mouth instinctively, before I could think about the consequences. Freezing salt water filled my throat and lungs. The seabed was a dozen or so metres beneath me, and the nearest land was probably kilometres away in any direction. I kicked and thrashed blindly, trying to push myself towards the surface, but my sweatshirt kept dragging me down. At last, my head broke through, and I struggled out of the fabric. I coughed, gasping for air, but another wave flooded my mouth. The yacht was close, its hull rising above me. My only hope was to swim around it and get back on board in search of a life jacket, at least.

All I wanted at that moment was to hear my father. To feel him catch me under the arms and pull me out of the water. I could even bear his anger at me for not staying where he’d told me to. If only he would come for me.

Something hard brushed against my shoulder. I tried to grab it, but a wave spun me the other way. The blow came from the side. For a moment, I felt a sharp pain above my ear, and then I couldn’t move my arms anymore. The water closed over my head. I wanted to reach the surface. I really did. And a moment later, I didn’t have to do anything anymore.