[Day 3, Dec. 22 – The Ophelia Cruise Ship]
Octavia
“You—what? You killed your—?”
“I didn’t!” he yelled, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. “I’d never hurt her. She was my everything.”
My heart clenched as I watched him bury his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs.
I reached out instinctively, squeezing his arm.
“Eliot…”
He sniffled, his voice barely a whisper as he continued. “It was Christmas. I was just a kid—ten years old. Stupid. Innocent. Mom and I stayed home while Dad and Dave went out. Every Christmas, she’d take me to Disney to see Santa. But that year, she didn’t want to go.”
His voice broke again, and he took a shaky breath before continuing.
“But I didn’t understand. I threw tantrums—cried and screamed until she gave in. She
