He makes to leave

It's the cabin boy (or something, youngest anyway), he's like a rabbit in the headlights. And then he bolts.

But I still have the knife and head him off.

There's a moment when I'm looking in his eyes when I realise I am about to cross a rubric's cube. If I stick him, then I'm on a journey that I can't backtrack.

Then I realise, with a kind of lightness inside, that I started that particular track before.

I don't bother pushing him over the side when I'm done. I have to deal with the others, and get rid of this headache.