No Little Duck Came Back

While I was on vacation with my parents, we stood on the deck overlooking the sea when my father suddenly asked, "Mother duck says quack, quack, quack, quack. But?"

I was about to reply, "Only four little ducks came back," when he kicked me into the water.

"What's taking you so long to finish a song? Are you cognitively arrested or what?" he barked.

Cold water filled my lungs like lead as I bobbed in the waves. "Help me, Dad! I can't swim!"

My mother told the captain to steer the superyacht away instead. "Then stay in the water a little longer. Self-preservation may finally make you learn to swim. That's what you need. Real grit and adversity to unlock your potential."

I flailed my arms and fought to stay afloat, but panic took over. My right leg cramped and refused to move.

I could only watch the superyacht fade into the horizon.

I drifted for a while before I could catch up with my parents' superyacht. I wished I could tell them how many ducks came back, but they would never hear my voice again.

My parents clinked their glasses and smiled.

"Finally. That useless waste of space can rot at the bottom of the ocean and become fish food. Our family has never needed him, not when we already have Amber."

I hovered in the air and watched the look of disgust on my father's face when he mentioned me. The sight startled me. I had not realized how little I meant to him for so long.

My mother took her seat at the white grand piano and let her fingers move across the keys. Liebesträume by Franz Liszt filled the air, light and delicate.

When she finished, Amber, my older sister, ran up and kissed her cheek. "That was fantastic, Mom. I don't know why Jesse used to claim he couldn't hear what you were playing. It had to be an act. He was jealous of how much you love me, Mom."

My mother tapped Amber's nose with a fond smile. "He's tone-deaf and completely lacking in musical talent. Of course he would say something like that."

I drifted toward the piano and reached for a key. My teacher had always said I was a musical genius because of my perfect pitch. I could hear pitch in waves and catch the melody in the wind.

It did not matter. My mother had never believed I was capable of any of it.

My finger passed through the keys without making a sound.

Nearby, intricately designed cakes lined a table. Their rich aroma of butter and fresh strawberries drew me in.

I loved strawberry cake, but my mother had always forbidden sweets. She claimed that too much sugar would make me fat and dull.

I was dead now. I could eat it, right?

I leaned over the table and opened my mouth wide. I lined up a large bite and bit down.

My jaws snapped shut against each other, and the impact numbed my gums. My body phased through the table from the force.

I could eat nothing. I could smell it so clearly, yet I could not taste or feel a thing.

The emptiness felt worse than hunger. I sniffled as tears gathered in my eyes. "Mom, I'm hungry. This smells so good. Please let me have a bite. Just once."

My mother did not hear me. She only listened to her conversation partners as she sipped her champagne.

My father glanced at his watch and frowned.

"It's been ten minutes?" he muttered. He raised a hand to summon the captain of our security detail.

"Pull my useless son out of the water," he said in a casual tone. "He's a waste of space, but I don't want him to die from that. People may talk."

The captain went pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his knees seemed to weaken. "Sir, the emergency boat's engine has malfunctioned. It couldn't follow us back here."

My father's glass paused midair, the wine inside swirling slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The captain lowered his head.