While I was on vacation with my parents, we stood on the deck overlooking the sea when my father suddenly asked, "Mother duck says quack, quack, quack, quack. But?"

I was about to reply, "Only four little ducks came back," when he kicked me into the water.

"What's taking you so long to finish a song? Are you cognitively arrested or what?" he barked.

Cold water filled my lungs like lead as I bobbed in the waves. "Help me, Dad! I can't swim!"

My mother told the captain to steer the superyacht away instead. "Then stay in the water a little longer. Self-preservation may finally make you learn to swim. That's what you need. Real grit and adversity to unlock your potential."

I flailed my arms and fought to stay afloat, but panic took over. My right leg cramped and refused to move.

I could only watch the superyacht fade into the horizon.

I drifted for a while before I could catch up with my parents' superyacht. I wished I could tell them how many ducks came back, but they would never hear my voice again.

My parents clinked their glasses and smiled.

"Finally. That useless waste of space can rot at the bottom of the ocean and become fish food. Our family has never needed him, not when we already have Amber."

I hovered in the air and watched the look of disgust on my father's face when he mentioned me. The sight startled me. I had not realized how little I meant to him for so long.

My mother took her seat at the white grand piano and let her fingers move across the keys. Liebesträume by Franz Liszt filled the air, light and delicate.

When she finished, Amber, my older sister, ran up and kissed her cheek. "That was fantastic, Mom. I don't know why Jesse used to claim he couldn't hear what you were playing. It had to be an act. He was jealous of how much you love me, Mom."

My mother tapped Amber's nose with a fond smile. "He's tone-deaf and completely lacking in musical talent. Of course he would say something like that."

I drifted toward the piano and reached for a key. My teacher had always said I was a musical genius because of my perfect pitch. I could hear pitch in waves and catch the melody in the wind.

It did not matter. My mother had never believed I was capable of any of it.

My finger passed through the keys without making a sound.

Nearby, intricately designed cakes lined a table. Their rich aroma of butter and fresh strawberries drew me in.

I loved strawberry cake, but my mother had always forbidden sweets. She claimed that too much sugar would make me fat and dull.

I was dead now. I could eat it, right?

I leaned over the table and opened my mouth wide. I lined up a large bite and bit down.

My jaws snapped shut against each other, and the impact numbed my gums. My body phased through the table from the force.

I could eat nothing. I could smell it so clearly, yet I could not taste or feel a thing.

The emptiness felt worse than hunger. I sniffled as tears gathered in my eyes. "Mom, I'm hungry. This smells so good. Please let me have a bite. Just once."

My mother did not hear me. She only listened to her conversation partners as she sipped her champagne.

My father glanced at his watch and frowned.

"It's been ten minutes?" he muttered. He raised a hand to summon the captain of our security detail.

"Pull my useless son out of the water," he said in a casual tone. "He's a waste of space, but I don't want him to die from that. People may talk."

The captain went pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his knees seemed to weaken. "Sir, the emergency boat's engine has malfunctioned. It couldn't follow us back here."

My father's glass paused midair, the wine inside swirling slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The captain lowered his head.

"The superyacht was moving too fast, and the waves were high. We lost Mr. Jesse," the captain admitted.

My father splashed wine across the man's face. "What does any of that have to do with me, you idiots? Go find him! Why should I have to tell you the obvious?"

The commotion startled my mother. She approached with a frown. "What's wrong? That useless little thing still hasn't come up on deck?"

My father tugged his tie down in irritation and unbuttoned his collar. "The bodyguard said he hasn't been following us. They're searching now."

My mother sneered, showing no concern, "Oh, I see. He's hiding behind an emergency float or somewhere like that. It's just another stunt for attention. I've seen it before. Once, he hid in a closet and refused to come out just to avoid piano practice."

"But that isn't it," I screamed.

Back then, my ears hurt. My hearing aid had broken, and every sound had been unbearable. I couldn't take it anymore, so I had tried to escape the noise.

My mother could not hear me. She took a sip of champagne instead. "Leave him alone. Let him stay in the freezing water a little longer. He'll climb back soon enough. I wouldn't dote on a pathological liar and drama king."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. "The sea was bitterly cold, Mom. I can no longer climb back onto the yacht. I can't do it anymore."

The sky had turned completely dark, nearly black. The only light on the water came from the emergency boats and the superyacht, casting a harsh glow over the freezing sea.

The wind grew colder. The waves worsened. I curled into myself at the corner of the deck, arms wrapped around my knees. I could no longer feel the cold, yet I still shuddered.

I had thalassophobia.

When I was five, Amber shoved me into the deep end of a swimming pool. I nearly drowned. I could never forget the feeling of water closing in on me. It became a nightmare that never left.

It also became a sore point for my parents. My father called me a coward who couldn't overcome trauma like a real man. He said I was a disgrace to the family.

"We still couldn't find him, sir," Max, the bodyguard captain, reported as he and his team returned from the sea. Anxiety showed on their faces.

My father's frown deepened, but not from concern for my safety. He hated the embarrassment. To him, it meant his authority as a father had been challenged.

"How the hell is that possible? How can it be so hard to find a boy?"

"Maybe some fishermen rescued him," Amber said lightly between licks of her ice cream.

She swung her legs from her seat. "Maybe he's laughing to himself, thinking about how worried we'd be. Jesse's always been good at hide-and-seek. And he knows Mom and Dad would worry as time passed. Then you'd pay more attention to him. I bet that's what he's doing right now. Later, he'll ask for compensation."

My father lashed out, kicking a row of chairs aside. "That little shit! How dare he try to manipulate us? He'd risk his life just to get his way? Who taught him to play dirty?"

My mother grimaced in disgust. "Today is supposed to celebrate Amber's achievement, and he's already trying to steal her spotlight with this nonsense. I swear, we should send him to one of those genius boot camps. It would be better than having him at home, where I have to look at that annoying face."

I hovered near Amber. I noticed how her lips glistened with butter and cream.

I would never taste that again.

"Why did you have to lie, Amber?" I asked my unhearing sister.

"I've never said anything like that, Amber! You told me to count how many little ducks there were, so Dad would finally love me when I got it right!"

Amber could not see me. She finished the last of her ice cream, licked her lips in satisfaction, and grinned sweetly. "Dad, don't worry. Jesse is old enough to take care of himself. He'll come back."

My father nodded and gently draped his coat over her shoulders. "I know, sweetie. I'm glad I can always rely on you. Come on, let's go inside for the cake."

My parents and sister retreated into the comfort of their warm cabin. I could hear their muffled laughter and cheer through the thick window, yet I could not enter.

They cut into a massive three-layer cake. Amber fed the first piece to my father and the second to my mother. They broke into laughter, like one big happy family.

It stung. I never felt like I had a place among them.

I turned to the sea. My body bobbed in and out of the water, drifting alone toward the distant abyss, carried by the waves as fish nibbled at what remained of me.

I turned back to the cabin and shouted as loudly as I could, "Open the door! It's me! It's cold and dark out here! Someone, please bring me home!"

I shouted until I could no longer hear my own voice. No one answered. Only the sound of waves striking the hull filled the silence.

…

My father finally lost his patience. "Steer the ship back to shore! I've had it with his dramatic behavior!"

The superyacht's crew obeyed his command. Perched on the rail, I watched as we sped farther and farther away from my body.

"Don't go! Mom, Dad, I'm right there! Just there! You only have to turn around and look. If you turn around… If you could just turn around… you'd see me. I'm not hiding!"

The superyacht docked at the pier. It stood empty, save for a few dim streetlights. There were no fishermen in sight, and no sign of me.

My father refused to give up. He ordered Max to retrieve the security camera footage from the harbor officer, yet he still saw no sign of anyone returning from the sea.

"That brat's still out on the water?" he said in disbelief, his confidence beginning to crack.

He still could not accept that something might have happened to me. I had always been a stubborn, tenacious little pest. No matter how many times he kicked me or shouted at me, I kept running back to him.

My mother took out her phone and opened her tracking program. They had planted a chip in my watch so they could locate me at all times. It was the only act of care they had ever shown me.

"We'll find out where that brat is soon enough. And he's going to get a good beating for all the trouble he's caused us!" she snarled as she tapped the small red dot blinking on the screen.

A minute later, the map finished loading. The red dot blinked from the sea, 20 miles from the pier, and sank below sea level. It dropped from -5 miles to -10.

My mother's hand trembled with shock. She almost dropped the phone. "What's going on? Why is his watch sinking into the ocean?!"

My father glanced at the screen. His face went pale before he forced himself to recover and sneered, masking his panic, "That brat threw his watch into the sea! He knows we're tracking him! That little shit knows exactly how to play with our feelings, doesn't he? Looks like he's been studying how to piss us off in his spare time!"

That made my mother relax. Her panic hardened into embarrassed fury. "How dare he?! That watch is a limited edition! How could he throw something like that away for his childish games?!"

I hovered between them and stared at the sinking red dot.