“You’ll swim, or you’ll run out of air in that underwater maze and drown in the dark,” my mother says, calmly. “And if you don’t cooperate, I need you to remember that your father has kept my husband prisoner for three and a half years. You’re only breathing right now because I think you might be of use to me. The moment you become a hindrance instead of a help, I’ll snap my fingers like this,” she gives one crisp click of her finger and thumb, “and that will be the sound of a bullet entering the back of your skull. Do we understand each other?”
