On Wednesday, my father and I reeled in the big catch. We had had bigger, but this one would be just enough for the shipment on Friday.

The sea was especially rough that day, and our pontoon was being tossed around like a hot potato. My stomach was churning by the time we pulled in the last of the nets. It bothered me to see the fish all tangled up, dancing stupidly, struggling. I didn't mind seeing them already dead, but - … There was something very disturbing about knowing something, and then seeing it die in front of you. It's like a part of your soul goes with it, and you'll never get it back. A part of your innocence - gone.

Asking him if I could be the one to go with the shipment went surprisingly well. I didn't know what to expect, considering that it would either be him, Peter or myself.

"Just don't expect to get paid for overtime." My father had snarled.

I left out the fact that I wouldn't be returning.

When we reached our final marker for the nets, my father shooed me away as he began to reel it in. It was as if he didn't want to share whatever satisfaction the catch might bring him.

Like I could give less of a shit.

I began untangling the fish from the net while my father pulled in the rest. Seagulls swooped above our heads, squawking. The stench was making my eyes water, and I turned away until they calmed.

I heard my father cry out. I turned to see him struggling with the last of the net.

"Get over here, boy!" He hollered, waving me over.

I hurried over and he handed me a portion of net. I could've sworn I saw a glint in his eyes – I'd never seen him so juiced up. Just what was tangled up in this net?

"Pull!"

I yanked the net with all my might, stumbling backwards and landing hard on my side. My father tossed the bulk of it beside me. Whatever was tangled inside the net was thrashing violently around.

"What is it?" I shouted above the roar of the waves.

I watched him pulling back layers of the net, exposing what the creature was, and I stood.

"It's a great… big… beautiful…-!"

I jumped back as the creature swung in my direction.

"Shark." My father was grinning.

I grimaced, looking at the animal flopping around pathetically. I had never seen a shark up close. It was no Great White, but perhaps it was just young. Hell if I knew. If it had been swimming towards me I would've been afraid, but seeing it now… I just felt bad.

My father pulled out his knife and crouched down, admiring the famous terror of the deep. I assumed he was cutting the thing free.

But he wasn't.

"You gonna let it go?" I shouted.

He gripped the shark's dorsal fin and then looked up at me, smiling.

"What are you do-"

Thursday rolled around, and I was exhausted. The fact that I had to work another long day in the hot sun didn't help my already pounding headache. But the fish needed to be gutted and packed up by the end of the day. Tomorrow was, of course, the big day.

I caught myself cursing my father a time or two as I moved the fish crates from the pontoons onto the dock all alone. My arms were screaming in protest by the time the boats were unloaded, and it was only two in the afternoon. By the time I started gutting, the sweat was pouring off of me. I was making stupid mistakes – cutting myself instead of the fish; dropping the knives; tossing the innards in with the gutted fish. Maybe if I hadn't been left to do everything myself, the delivery wouldn't look so half-assed.

But my father wasn't speaking to me. In a way, I was relieved. I don't think I could look at him the same way ever again, and I wasn't about to bring up the topic of what had happened on the pontoon. I had been trying to push the memory out of my mind since the moment it happened.

Sigh.

I sealed off the last crate around seven. I was a complete mess – unknown substances and bits of Goddess-knows-what splattered my coveralls. I smelled like putrid fish and sweat, and all I wanted was to take a shower.

I made my way back up to the house. All the vehicles were gone. My family most likely went to town without me.

Whatever.

I stepped through the front door and headed upstairs for the bathroom. I ripped the rancid clothes off of me and jumped in the shower. I scrubbed myself until my skin was red and raw. Somehow I still felt dirty.

When I dried off and put on whatever pants I could find, I used my towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. I was a flaming hot mess; I needed a shave, a haircut, and a hell of a lot of sleep. I looked and felt like I had completely given up on myself.

Downstairs, I heard the front door slam. Heavy sets of feet bounded up the stairs into multiple bedrooms. It seemed as though my family was home from their outing.

Shit.

It was at that precise moment that my brain decided to remind me that tomorrow I was leaving. In just a few hours, I would be out of here, and I had yet to pack a single thing. Packing a bag wouldn't take that long - I wasn't planning on bringing much, anyway.

I exited the bathroom, taking in the cold gust of air from the air conditioning of which I had been deprived, and headed towards what used to be my bedroom.

"Don't touch that!" I barked, having just stepped through the open doorway.

Peter stood at my dresser, fiddling with all my things. "That's a nice little rock collection you've got there."

"Shut up."

It had taken me months to chisel the ores he was talking about. I had discovered a cavern at the bottom of the cliff that flooded every time the tide came in. It took a lot of maneuvering to reach it, and I had suffered some battle wounds from the slippery, jagged rocks that surrounded it. I had only a few hours to explore each day until I'd be washed away, so I had to move quickly. With a weak chisel I had stolen from my father's toolbox and with any solid, heavy stone I could find, I would pound away at the walls of the until a piece broke loose. When the water began to find it's way back it, I would fill my pockets with what little I had earned and make the treacherous journey back home.

Once there, I would spend the evening in my room, chiseling at the rocks until they began to break apart. Most of them crumbled, and contained nothing, but if I was lucky, the bits that crumbled away would reveal a sparkling discovery. So far, I had found some copper, a bit of silver, and something I couldn't quite put a name on.

It was beautiful - I had never seen something so blue before in my life. I figured it was sapphire, but it sure didn't look like a gem to me. It was the kind of blue you wish you could dive into. It was my prized possession. And Peter was holding it between his dirty thumb and index finger, examining it.

"What are you going to do with this piece of junk?" He scoffed.

I went to take the stone from him, but he held it away. Peter smirked. My blood began to boil.

"Give it back," I said.

"It's just a stupid rock. What's it to you?"

I could feel my cheeks burning. "Just give it back!"

"Or else what, Gray? Are you going to hit me?"

My jaw was clenched so tightly that I could feel my heartbeat through my teeth. I had more anger built up in me from the last eighteen years of my life, and I knew I was a ticking time bomb. Peter didn't.

"Are you getting mad? C'mon! Get mad! Show me what you got!"

My hands balled into fists. My ears were ringing. I was ready to explode.

"Go on, do it! C'mon! Hit me! I dare y –"

I don't remember what happened next, but when I opened my eyes, Peter was wiping the blood from his face while staggering a few steps back. I glanced down at my shaking fist and found that it was bloody, too.

I heard the ore hit the carpeted floor with a thump. Peter began to scream.