Page 1 of Broken By the Battleship

Chapter 1

Iris

At the sound of my father’s angry voice bellowing down the hall, I race across the room and slam the door closed with my momentum. Not wasting time on the broken locks, I drop the metal bar in place and grab the sack sitting underneath the lopsided bench.

“Time for hide and seek,” I call out just loud enough for Sail, my eleven-year-old brother, to hear over the rush of water on the hull from the bedroom.

“Reef, show me where to hide,” I insist as I reach down to take his tiny five-year-old hand on my way across the room.

He abandons his toy blocks and tucks his ragged doll under his arm before grabbing my hand and running as fast as his little legs will carry him, just like we practiced. My heart pounds against my sternum and adrenaline heightens my senses as my father’s heavy boots stomp closer.

He’s angry. Very angry.

As angry as the night he killed my mom.

Fear and fury clog my throat and prickle at the back of my eyes. He can’t know I planned to run away with my brothers, but his anger suggests otherwise.

Sail darts out of the bedroom, almost tripping me in his haste, but I press my palm to his back and urge him forward even faster. He yanks the small box off the warped and tarnished kitchen counter on his way past and hugs it to his chest as he slips into the long, narrow storage hideaway between the kitchen and the washroom.

Memories flash through me, and I fight a bout of nausea as I recall my mother’s sweet voice as she urged me into the space and closed the panel behind me.

I was a stubborn child. Not like these boys. They’re so sweet and precious.

At only five years old, Reef is too young for us to know his dynamic with any certainty, but as he dives into the mound of ratty but clean fabrics at the back of the cubby, I wonder if he might present as an omega, but his omega tendencies could be born out of habit and not instinct. He was so young when our father stole our mother away from us, and the only way I could stop Reef from crying was to share mother’s nest with him.

I sidestep into the narrow room and drop the sack in front of Sail. The space is so narrow my shoulders brush both walls, but I squat and meet his eyes. When I reach out to touch his face, he leans into my palm and cups my hand.

“Don’t come out, no matter what you hear. Understand?” I demand.

He nods. The fear shining from his blue eyes—which look so much like mother’s—twists my stomach, but I push the sensation away and give him a quick kiss on the forehead before shuffling out of the room and swinging the panel closed.

“Lock it, Sail. Just like we practiced,” I urge through the thin metal.

When I hear the makeshift latches slide into place, I praise him and rush back into the kitchen.

The front door rattles as I grab the small chopping knife.

Screams echo down the hall, and as my father curses, I realize there’s more to his anger than his usual drunken madness. The entire ship shakes as the sound of violence grows louder.

“Open the goddamn door, Iris,” my father yells as he bangs his fist on the metal.

I rush into the main room.

My father growls before going eerily quiet. I brace my legs and bring my puny knife up in front of me, preparing for the worst.

My father kicks the door so hard the metal warps and the beam cracks. I flinch on instinct but square my shoulders and tighten my grip on the knife.

“I said, open the goddamn door, bitch,” my father screams before kicking it harder.

The bar clatters to the floor in pieces. My legs tremble as fear and fury flood my system. The door swings open to reveal my father’s bulky frame. My stomach sours as the stench of alcohol invades my nostrils. His bloodshot eyes meet mine.

“Come here. We’re leaving. Now,” he snarls.

The screaming and shouting from down the hall grow louder. I shuffle backward and raise my knife higher as he stomps toward me.

“No, I—”

Pain blasts through my head as he slaps me so hard my face whips to the side. His fingers clamp around my wrist in a cruel, unbreakable grip. He twists until pain lances up my arm. The knife clatters to the ground. My heart sinks.

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