Hook’s voice, high pitched and happy, called out after me. “Sleep well, my dear! We have many things ahead, you and me.”
Then the door to the lower hold was opened once more, and I was thrown inside the cell, skinning my knees and hands on the sandy wood.
As the darkness surrounded me again, hopelessness choked me like a blanket, trying to snuff me out by poisoning my thoughts. I was a captive on Captain Hook’s ship, and I was going to die here, like the guy he just so happened to forget to throw overboard.
I woke to something scratching me, tickling the back of one of my hands. I groaned groggily, the scratching becoming painful and more frequent.
Eyes shooting open, I realized rats—yeah, rats—were scrambling over my hands and nibbling on them with quick little bites. I screamed and stood, flinging them off frantically. They squeaked in protest, then scurried away into the darkness just as fast as they’d appeared.
Disgusting.
“Rats are trying to chew off my fingers, I’m stuck down here with no food or water, and I have to pee. I’d say things are turning out pretty great right now,” I mumbled, kind of delirious. Maybe I was going senile. Wait, was that an actual thing you got from being in a boat for two long? It’d only been a few hours, yet I felt like my stomach was filled with rocks and my head was being pounded with a sharp hammer every time my heart thumped.
Having no idea how long I’d slept, I peered up at the small slit in the deck above me. It was mostly dark, so probably early morning, and I had yet to feel one ounce of warmth.
As I scrubbed my arms, trying to rid the sensation of things crawling on me, I felt it. That familiar tingling on the back of my neck I got whenever someone was staring at me. Turning, I peered into the darkness while my heart began to pound rapidly in my chest.
Something didn’t feel right.
“W-who’s there?” I barked into the dark.
A shadow shifted. But as quickly as I saw it, it was gone.
But clearly, I wasn’t alone.
Faster than I’d expected, a figure appeared out of the darkness. Hiding my face, I screamed, terrified it might be a gruesome pirate ready to disobey his captain’s wishes and hurt me anyway… but it wasn’t.
It was a boy my age, approaching me slowly. He stared at me through thick bangs that covered his dark, almond eyes. And by the look he was giving me, I thought maybe a pirate might not have been the worst thing to greet me after all.
“Who are you? W-what do you want?” I asked, but the boy just blinked.
I noticed he had a long scar running down his neck and another down his bare chest. I was trembling horribly at this point, finding his silence a lot more unnerving than if he just answered me. By the way he surveyed me coyly, I knew I had to be cautious. I couldn’t just trust any measly person I met here, especially someone who appeared to be a prisoner like myself.
“I’m Zane, Zane Thomas.” His voice was deeper than I’d expected—a monotonous lull with a slight syrupy sweetness. He held out his hand, but I hesitated to shake it. An English accent coated his husky voice rather suitably. He used his fingers to shove his hair from his face and smiled at me shyly, like he wasn’t a threat.
So I relaxed, trusting he was probably in the same boat as me (Get it? Boat?). He was most likely an innocent guy captured by Hook, too. Maybe we could ally together or something.
Finally, I took his hand, but instead of being greeted with a warm smile, I was thrown into a headlock and forced down to my knees. The boy grabbed for my locket that swung at my neck. I clawed at his arm to let me go while he tried to yank off the jewelry. Coughing, grabbing my throat, I gasped to replace the oxygen I was losing in the attack. Heat was pulsating throughout my chest now, causing my eyes to bulge and my heartbeat to spread into my ears.
As spots started to dance across my vision, I felt panic in every part of me suddenly deplete, almost like a cool wind calming me from within. And then, as all went black, there was one final burst of light. Red light. And then all went dark.
Moments later, I awoke to the boys voice.
“Where did you find this?” Zane gasped and shoved the necklace near my face. Blinking, I tried to focus in on a bright red fire that was growing on the floor of the boat, threatening to lick up toward the single lantern swaying above our heads. Closer to me, on the front of my locket, the golden heart was engraved with a large, rooted tree and encircled by a wreath of thorns, a design I’d traced with my fingers as far back in time as I could remember.
What had happened in the few moments I was out?
When I didn’t answer, too disoriented to know what exactly had happened, the enraged kid pushed it closer to my face. “Answer me!” he demanded, angrier this time.
Seeing a small window of opportunity, I quickly lashed out my foot and tripped him, making him fall. Where this idea came from was beyond me. But in a split second, I had my necklace back and was sprinting for the cell door. I rattled on the bars and found the lock I thought was holding me in was actually unlatched. Why hadn’t I noticed it was open before?
“Get away from me!” I slid out the chains, and they dropped to the floor with a clang. The smell of smoke was beginning to make me cough, filling every pore of the ship’s belly.
Bursting through the door, I raced toward the stairway but only made it to the front step before I fell, hitting my knee and cutting my leg on a nail jutting out of the wood. Shouting in agony, I tried to get up, but I was hit hard with the shock of pain shooting up my leg. My knee throbbed excruciatingly as I breathed past my teeth to get through it. I was trapped now, on the stairs. I couldn’t get past the door to the cellar even if I tried.
After rushing to the only source of liquid besides rum in the whole hull, the boy tossed it over the red fire, instantly dousing the flames. The smell of urine started to overpower what had been smokier before, making me want to gag. “The whole ship will come after us now!” The guy was again standing over me with my necklace in his hand, his scar twitching along with the rhythm of his breath.
“Now, answer me.” His eyes bored into mine. “Where did you find this?” He prodded my side with his boot, not very hard, to be meant as a warning. “Answer me or you’ll regret it.”
“I-I don’t know! Now would you just stop?” I pleaded through tears, angry now.
Instead of coming at me again, the boy narrowed his eyes and then sighed as if he’d used up all his energy for the day. “If you’re lying, you’ll be sorry,” he muttered, shoving my necklace in his pocket before limping back into the darkness. “Be thankful they didn’t smell the smoke, or we’d both be dead.”
A few minutes after he left, I caught my breath and checked my leg. The knee was beginning to bruise, and the gash was bleeding. I wanted to check my shoulder, which was jarred in the process of our struggle, but it was too painful to turn my head to look. Where had that kid even come from? Why was he in my cell, threatening me over my own necklace?
I managed to crawl over to a heap of sailcloth and cover myself. I had a major headache, and everything was spinning. I was in a daze the rest of the day, my thoughts jumbled in confusion. The lack of food and water was definitely affecting me now, making all energy almost completely nonexistent at this point. I was wounded, hungry, and possibly slightly senile. So I just lay there, unable to comprehend all I’d gone through and why these things were happening to me. I was a regular kid—well, as regular as a kid who hallucinated her whole life could get—and I didn’t understand why everything was so against me now. What had I ever done to deserve this?
As I tried to rouse myself, the extent of my weakness became apparent. I could barely move beyond lifting my head a few inches. Thankfully, I did manage to suck up a little bit of rainwater that had puddled into the sail I was lying on, so I wasn’t completely dying of thirst–yet. It rained frequently onto the ship, seeping in through the cracks of the deck and leaving my clothes constantly damp. But at least there was fresh water.
I would
drift in and out of my daze and glimpse Zane walking around, drinking rainwater, pacing, mumbling to himself. One time, he was just leaning over, staring at me. He would breathe on my nose and just… blink. It was immensely disturbing, but I didn’t have the strength to care. I was going to die here, and the only person to witness it would be a violent boy I knew nothing about, other than his name and that he liked to threaten people to get what he wanted.
What did he even want with my necklace? It was just a piece of jewelry, probably not even real—worthless. I mean, I wanted it, but that was because my mother gave it to me. And honestly, sometimes I wished she’d never given it to me in the first place. It would’ve save me from all the pain I was in at the moment. It was a piece of junk, always reminding me of her: her voice, her eyes, the pink of her soft lips. She was everything to me. I guess it wasn’t very therapeutic to rely on a cheap necklace as my only hold on my memories of her. But it was all I had left, even though I would only get fifty cents or less for it at a pawnshop. I would know; I’d already tried.
I finally couldn’t take the emptiness of my stomach, so mustering what little strength I had, I tried to move to stand. Getting to my feet, I limped over to a big stack of crates in the corner, all the while keeping my eyes on the places where Zane usually sat. I really didn’t need him jumping out to attack me again.
When I finally spotted him, he was passed out, leaned up against the wall with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, some of its contents spilled out onto the floor. I cautiously moved closer and poked him in the shoulder. He just snorted and snored with his mouth open. From the way I saw things, I could tell he wouldn’t wake for a while since, well, he was completely wasted.
So I could actually breathe for a second.
Cringing, I realized I needed to check my knee and leg again. They were hurting something fierce. I leaned down and lifted my pant leg only to see my knee was black and blue and the open gash was swollen and very red. Quite possibly infected.
I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. This was terrible.
Amidst my pity party of one, something caught my eye, a glint coming from Zane. Squinting to get a better look, I inhaled sharply when I saw it. My necklace draped over his neck and completely up for grabs. Was it placed too easily, too out in the open? Was this all a trick for him to come after me again? Because I’d have to jump him to get it back while he was awake, and I didn’t have enough strength to do that, so this could be my only chance. He might not even remember after he woke up.
For once, thank you, alcohol.
It was the perfect situation… almost too perfect, actually. That’s why I pulled back before my dirty fingers could take it back. He’d notice, then come after me. And besides, he couldn’t take it anywhere; we were both locked down here for the time being. I just needed to get it before we left. If we ever did, that is.
So instead, I decided it best to let him have it for the time being and looked him over while he was unattractively drooling from the corner of his mouth.
He had dark-brown, almost black in the darkness, hair that was wavy at its tips. It was long—overgrown—but it seemed to fit his high cheekbones and pointed nose. He was skinny, pale white, and tall for his age. I predicted he was maybe seventeen or eighteen, so older than me by a year or two at least. Long brown eyelashes flickered every time he mumbled in his sleep, and matching eyebrows that weren’t very furrowed gave his face a sort of mysterious look. But he seemed pretty straightforward to me. “Here, let me steal from you and leave you to rot. I’m one with the night. I love black.”
His feet were huge, too big for his body. He was very lanky and boney, but his arms were muscular, attached to strong shoulders. When I dared get a bit closer, I saw his top lip was bigger than the bottom and they were severely chapped. Maybe I was judging, but I had a feeling we’d never be friends in real life, let alone here. He would be dashing back there, popular even, and have all the girls swooning for his snarky comments and dirty humor. Yes, I was definitely judging. But it was easier to assume we wouldn’t be friends. Whatever crowd he belonged to, I knew it was definitely not my type.
Now I was irrationally mad at this kid, but I didn’t care. First, he’d pushed me around, stolen something precious from me. Now, in my mind, he was a stupid popular boy from my high school, and that was enough to solidify my decision. So I briskly changed my mind and, making sure my gaze didn’t stray from him, I unclasped the necklace and let the chain pool into my palm like water.
There, that’ll show ‘em.
After one more glance back at his sleeping form, I limped over to the crates, where I found crackers and a little pan of water. Some great meal this was. Hadn’t I read something in history class (not my best subject either) about how ships always ran out of supplies after weeks at sea? Clearly, Hook needed to restock. If he was going back to the island to get more supplies, could I sneak off to go along? I doubted it.
About an hour had passed. I’d downed the water, then ate every last cracker crumb. When I was departing from the crates, gimping past Zane, something made me stop and observe him again.
There was a little drop of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Seeing that, I worried. Did he have alcohol poisoning? Oh God, what if he was… dead?
I didn’t want another person to die, even if they had treated me badly. So hesitantly, I touched his mouth. It quivered, not responsive really, but that also meant not dead, thank God. I took the bottle out of his hands, found a scrap of cloth lying near him, and then wiped up the blood and alcohol from his face. There was nothing else I could do at this point. I wasn’t a doctor. Whatever was going on, I assumed he’d be able to take care of it himself. Not to mention, I didn’t owe him a sliver of anything after the way he treated me. I should’ve been kicking him while he was down instead of worrying if he was all right. What was wrong with me?
I looked over to his area of darkness he protected like a pacing lion all the time. What was back there? Why did that place mean so much to him? I had to find out.
Curiously, I walked toward it, only to trip over something big and lumpy, falling onto my bad leg. I couldn’t help but cry out from the pain, tears spilling onto my cheeks naturally. I lay there, eyes closed, waiting for the pain to ebb. Freezing up, I waited for him to wake up and come after me. Thankfully, I just heard snoring.
When I finally reopened my eyes, my vision had adjusted enough to see Zane had a small living space in this area. I’d tripped over a broken and mildew-smelling cot with a bag lying next to it and then some extra alcohol bottles. English boy gotta drink, I guessed. He had the whole stash down here and nothing to do anyway. So why not?
I wiped my eyes, and then, looking over at him again, I was able to grab ahold of his pack and open it. I felt around and pulled out a small shell necklace and admired it for a second before putting it back. Why on Earth did he want my necklace when he had one of his own? Stupid, stupid boy.
Angry now, I continued my snooping and pulled out a small picture frame. It held a family photo, which must have been Zane’s. There was a tall man with a mustache and beard standing next to a pretty woman with dark curls and even darker eyes, like Zane’s. I assumed they were his parents, noticing they both were smiling happily for the picture. Then I noted a little boy in between them, looking at the camera like he was annoyed. His hair and eyes just confirmed he was indeed Zane. His dark hair was in curls and slicked back in the front. He’d been dressed up in a suit and tie, identical to his dad.
I ran my finger over the glass and felt a sudden remembrance of home. The real world. Not whatever this place was. How could I go back? Fly? This was all just one big joke.
I missed my father, despite his ignorance to my life and feelings. I wanted my bed and a new change of my own clothes. But most of all, I wanted a shower. God, you never really knew the basic elements of life to be special until you couldn’t have them anymore. And I was mad at myself for that, sitting now in a smelly ship basement w
ith a psychotic drunk and a messed-up leg.
In mid-thought, the picture caught my eye again—the bundle in the mother’s arms. It was a small baby in a blanket, and it had curly, brunette hair and bright eyes like the father…
When I was little, I had brown hair and light eyes.
The picture fell from my fingers and the glass cracked from the impact. I stared at it apprehensively and took a few steps back, making sure I didn’t step on any loose glass. Standing on my injured leg was an effort, making me sweat, and the darkness began clouding my vision. Cringing, I prayed Zane didn’t wake up and see one of his possessions had been clumsily dropped by me.
I started to see spots from the pain and lack of energy, so I was forced to sit down rather than clean up my mess like I’d hoped. I was going to be in so much trouble I could almost taste the regret.
But my arms and legs felt like lead as I pulled myself away from Zane and onto my personal little sail bed in the midst of the shadows. The pain my leg was giving off was still pretty brutal, and I knew the only way to get it to heal faster was to rest. So I dozed off, trying not to think except to control the ache and to calm my stressed body, praying Zane didn’t wake before I could recover enough to clean up my mess.
Waking up in my makeshift bed later on that evening, I was dizzy as soon as I opened my eyes. It was dark out, but I could still hear Zane’s soft breathing as he slept. When I looked for a source of light, I didn’t find any.
My fifth night aboard the Jolly Roger.
Feeling emptiness inside me, a weird feeling I’d never experienced before, I crawled out of the mass of the sail, careful not to touch my injured leg to the deck. I thought of where I’d dropped the picture earlier, vigilant not to get glass in my skin. But amidst my search, I ran straight into Zane. Thankfully, he was still mumbling in his sleep. I sighed and sat next to him, studying him in the dim light, once again procrastinating my cleanup while I stopped to rest.
Mere Phantasy Page 9
