One of the girls stands and rocks the boat, clawing at the sky. A man shouts and pulls her back to sitting. She moves from side to side trying to turn the boat over. I join in, although I try to make it seem as if I’m doing nothing at all. Come on, girls, I will them to make it happen: let’s topple this floating bathtub and swim away, far away, anywhere is better than here. The man slaps the screaming girl on the face, but this doesn’t stop her, just makes her scream louder. She stands again and the man pushes her so she topples over the side. Igor and the other man make angry sounds and gestures with their hands. They are thinking: someone paid something for her, somewhere.

She’s trying to swim away from the boat, and before we can attempt to get her back, one of the men pulls out a gun from under his arm and aims at her. He shoots and he hits. Bubbles float up from her and across the surface of the water. I imagine they are crimson-red, seeping into the black.

The man makes a shrugging movement with his shoulders to the other two: what was I supposed to do? The mad bitch might have escaped. The mad bitch might have spoken. The mad bitch needed to be taught a lesson. A type of fear creeps into our hearts, encasing them in ice. Magda is crumpled and tiny. Even Igor’s body is deflated, like someone took a pin to him and all the air has leaked out.

I’m glad of the rain; I’m glad of the wind that is making the water swirl. I open my mouth wide and drink it in. I can taste salt on the air, against my lips, on my tongue. Look, Papa! The air is fresh and clean. I look up and there are flashes of moon and stars, a cover of clouds scudding across the sky, full-bellied, swollen with rain. Out here there is no need for tears.

Lights from another boat are moving towards us, a hulking animal looming bigger and bigger as it gets close, growling in its guts. It casts its shadow over us and I wonder if it will open its jaws and swallow us whole, the way the whale swallowed Jonah. One of the men stands and the beast sticks its tongue out, which has rungs on it, like a ladder. The man pulls it towards us and sees me watching him. He looks me in the eye and gestures for me to stand. I do. I want to feel my arms pulling, my feet pushing; I want to root and dangle in the air.