The Afterlife (Siren Suicides, Book 3)

Chapter 24. Pacific Ocean

Two men and a woman climb over the railing and dive into the ocean, their funeral attire flapping in the wind like black raven feathers. One man shrieks uncontrollably, his plump hands pressed to his ears. One woman faints. This is much as I glimpse before Canosa lifts her arm to pin me down. Her face is distorted; her fine velvet hat is gone, revealing a mangy clump of thinning hair. Her body is twisted underneath the posh black dress fit more for a circus performance than for a funeral. In slow motion, I watch my right leg lift, aim, and hit her square in the chest so that she flies ten feet into the air and crashes on top of a dead man, black lacquered pumps flying off her feet, her multiple skirts ballooning and settling. I stand and stretch out my arms for balance, feeling a little dizzy, my focus on my father.

"I wanted you to hear me sing. You never came to my choir performance, but I forgive you," I say to him, louder, to make sure he hears me.

Astounded, and perhaps scared, he raises his hands in front of his face in a protective gesture, takes a step back, and hits the door. Canosa hisses, scrambles onto her hands and knees and runs at me with a shrill screech. I meet her head on; grabbing her shoulders, I lift her and throw her back another ten feet, into the corner between the salon's wall and the railing, not too far from where my father stands. I do it effortlessly, knowing that she's scared, continuing my march forward.

"You never bothered to hear me sing, never heard me when I talked to you, never listened to what I had to say. You wanted a son, not a daughter. You probably never really loved me. But it's okay, I get it. I understand why, and I forgive you."

I spread my arms into the thicket of noise, seeing bodies around me rush aside in panic, stepping on limbs, pieces of broken glass, moving forward, unperturbed.

"Ailen Bright, a girl who can't follow simple rules. I thought I told you not to meddle in my business!" Canosa's screech mixes with the screams of the remaining people. I ignore her. She is merely trying to provoke me. I'm not afraid to die. I know that she knows it and hesitates for that very reason. I have nothing else to lose.

"You told me I'd never amount to anything. You were right. I didn't, and I'm sorry. I tried. I tried really hard, I swear. I failed miserably. I'm sorry I hurt you. And for all those times you hurt me, I forgive you."

He just stares.

There is a bridge of newfound communication between us, slung across the salty ocean air, dark, shimmering with finality, as if death itself is watching us with eager interest, woken up from her usual slumber.

"You beat my mother, you hurt her, you killed her. You beat me, you called me names. We were things to you, useful only for carrying water, just as you lectured me about at every opportunity. You never noticed me for who I truly was, unrelated to my gender. It took for me to die for you to see me, to hear me. But it's okay, I get it, and I forgive you."

"What is this, Roger? What is she doing? Did you...tell her?" Canosa throws at my father.

He only shakes his head.

She curses loudly, clenching her fists and jumping high over the deck, with the clear intent of fleeing overboard. She must have made up her mind to sink the boat. I leap and intercept her in the air, easily, landing softly with her firmly in my arms and pinning her to the railing. She swivels her frightened eyes at me.

"Please," I tell her. "Don't interrupt me." I grab a handful of her hair and fling her back into the corner again.

My father doesn't move, frozen as a statue. It must be a horrible sight, watching the two remaining women in his life possess more power than ten of him ever would.

"Papa?" I say. "Don't be scared. I don't mean to hurt you. I simply want to give you a gift. A song, just for you. Because...because I love you." I stop about fifteen feet away from him, standing in the middle of the deck, between two curled up dead bodies—two women from the choir, their black dresses torn, their hair matted.