Page 1 of Necessary Cruelty

Prologue

Zaya

Dark clouds swirlon the horizon. A distant storm rapidly approaches the shore. The crash of ocean waves is louder than ever as I walk down the deserted beach. I’ve spent my whole life with the world on mute, and now I’m hearing it all for the first time.

Silence has been my only defense against the world’s cruelty for so long that the noise is more than I can bear.

My whole life has been driving toward this moment, forcing me closer and closer to the edge of the cliff until I don’t have any choice but to jump.

I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere, certainly not here where I’ve never been more than the town trash. Even my family is only bits and pieces with no glue holding it together. My own mother couldn’t bear to stay with me, not for any longer than she had to. Dementia has freed my grandfather of his bad memories and saved him from the pain of missing me. My brother is gone, and he won’t be coming back.

No one left will miss me if I’m gone, at least not for long.

Shocking cold hits my toes as I step into the surf, a bitter mismatch for the warmth in the air. The water here is always frigid. It takes a brave soul to step into it without protection and hope to make it back out.

I’ve never been anything close to brave.

The idea of being done with all of it brings a surprising lightness to my step, a stark contrast to the crushing despair that has always been my more constant companion. In death, there won’t be fear or pain.

There won’t be anything at all.

I’ve always feared the ocean, a strange thing for someone who was born in spitting distance of the water. Growing up, trips to the beach were more frequent than visits to the grocery store. I’d never understood how anyone could look at the infinite water, the waves crashing hard enough to break bone, and see anything but death.

Just more evidence I was never meant to survive in this world.

As a kid, my mom used to tell me stories of people being washed out to sea by the tides, unable to make their way back to the shore. Even the strongest swimmers eventually grow exhausted fighting the undercurrent. She described in detail the lashing waves during a storm that could tear apart fishing boats in a matter of minutes and suck the pieces down to the bottom, too deep to be recovered.

Darkest ocean is the final frontier, harder to reach than walking on the moon.

I’ve dreamed about what it might be like to give my body over to the sea. I’d always called them nightmares until I realized the real nightmare began the moment I opened my eyes.

Water churns around my ankles like the phantom hands of death, so cold it burns my skin. I take another step forward, and the frigid surf splashes against my knees, weighing me down as water seeps into the long train of my dress.

Some girls gently pack their wedding dresses away like priceless antiques, mine will be a death shroud.

I shiver at the creeping chill, knowing it will only get worse. The most excruciating moment will come when the water rises to my chest, just above the level of my heart.

It’s always the heart that can least take the cold.

My hand drifts down to touch the still flat plane of my belly. I imagine a touch of heat there, the tiniest spark of life, but it isn’t enough to call me back. And I refuse to bring anyone else into this world who might experience the same pain I have.

A voice echoes through the distant canyon, familiar even over the sound of crashing waves that is so loud it’s nearly deafening.

It’s too late.

It has always been too late, even from the very beginning.

I force myself further into the water, because I’m running out of time. If my nerves give out now, I won’t get this chance again. Padded restraints and the double locking doors of a psychiatric ward are all that await me. My supposed husband would rather leave me somewhere to rot than lose his meal ticket. I’ll never be out of someone else’s sight again.

This is my only opportunity.

“Don’t do this, Zaya. Please!”

Vin is already on the beach, but far enough away I can’t make out his face under the night sky. The only light out here is from a full moon hiding behind dark clouds. I don’t need to be close to know it’s him. No one else would stride down the sand of a public beach like he owns the entire world.

I turn away to face the endless black of a dark horizon. There may be distant lights from our small town behind me, but I can no longer see them. All I have to do is take a few final steps into oblivion, and it will all be over. I wade further into the water, licking cold creeping up my thighs and then my waist, forcing myself to take painful steps forward even as my heart pounds in my chest.

“Zaya,” he calls again, voice sounding more desperate than I’ve ever heard it.

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