Chapter 8~ Stormy Weather

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A/N: PTSD and rape-violence warning.

Chapter 8~ Stormy Weather

The days strung together like pearls on a necklace, each one tacking onto the next until the time that had passed seemed undecipherable. I couldn't say the future was looking any brighter but I received fewer and fewer visits from Tew; I was treated a bit more... humanely. All the while, I got more and more visits from Edmund. He'd feed me and tell me everything he'd seen that day—from the color of the sky and the blazing sunlight to each inhabitable island they'd passed. He'd even sing me some of the shanties he'd written for the crew. I would smile and laugh at Edmund's horrendous singing voice but always ask him to teach me the songs. I suppose it gave me something to keep my mind on. Until then, I'd never treasured how incredible it felt having something to look forward to each day, something to give you hope.

One night, before Edmund left, I stopped him quickly.

"Bring a deck of cards next time," I insisted. He gave me an unsure look and shrugged.

"I'm not sure that'd be a good idea—me stealin' a deck from the crew. They'd notice."
"Oh, please, Edmund. I'm so bored I've begun counting the nails in the floorboards. Just one night. That's all I ask."

Edmund saw my almost desperate desire and repressed his constraints on the matter. "Just one night," he grinned as he disappeared into the outside world. It was the kind of smile that imprinted in the back of your eyes and visited every time you shut them. And I hadn't seen anything more comforting in so long.

The next few nights wrought storms as hellish as the devil himself. The ship bounced and rocked so madly that I'd roll along the floor; sleep was impossible and my ears were filled with a constant crashing of the ungodly waves. There were many nights I was convinced I was in a nightmare and that I may wake to find myself back home with my wretched godmother.

And Edmund stopped coming every night. That was certainly worrying. I stopped getting fed—as if Tew decided it'd be easier to just let me starve. I wouldn't have been surprised.

Eventually, there were days where I would see no one at all. And out of everything that had ever happened to me aboard that nightmarish ship, loneliness was the scariest.

One particularly quiet evening, the door opened slowly. The sound was a blessing to my ears. I didn't even care who was coming. It was a living person, after all.

"Constantine?"

"Edmund, what the hell has happened? Where were you?" Silently, he shut the door behind him and stuffed the key in his raggedy brown coat. He took two things out of his other pocket and stuffed them in my hands—a carrot and a chunk of stale bread.

"Bless you," I nearly cried, devouring the food in seconds. Part of me was scared the next time I would see Edmund was either overboard or beaten like raw meat. But, he was untouched; all the bruises and cuts from his fray with the Captain had all healed kindly. His hair was wet with seawater and fell into his eyes. It gave him a menacing look that I'd never seen before.

"What's happened? Tell me, Edmund."

"We've reached Luanda."

"Luanda?"

"A port in West Africa. Tew is sailin' us all the way 'cross. I suspect he's leadin' us to India. But we're being followed."

A spark of hope that hadn't seen the light of day in what felt like years shocked my insides. My father...

"Do you think it's-" I began.

"I don't think so. Tew wants your father's head so badly. I'm sure he'd wage war at any sight of him. But it's been several days of the stalkin'."

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