When Erik turns around, I can’t help but meet his eyes. They are cast in shadow by his brow and the downward tilt of his head. His face is almost casual when he looks around and shouts, “Everyone to their posts! This storm will be rough.”
I don’t understand why he was the one who helped me. He has made his hatred of me clear. So why did he put it aside? There is something underneath his hatred. Something deep. For the first time, I wonder what kind of man Captain Erik is.
A crew member I don’t know whispers something to the dark-haired captain. After a moment, Erik responds. He as good as commanded me to get the hell back to my room, but I can’t seem to move. My body isn’t listening to me.
A phrase snags my attention as one of the men whispers, “Pirate of Death.”
The words carry weight, and instantly, I understand. This kind of thing has happened before. Often enough that the crew is used to it. Captain Erik is just as brutal as any leader in the Northern Courts. I furrow my brow as I watch him disappear without a word. He doesn’t care about me, he was just angry. He’s an asshole.
Even if he is an asshole, at least he’s proven that he won’t hurt you.
Just then, Jean Luc comes up behind me and whispers, “It’s time we take you back to your room, Maddie.”
I turn around and smile, gratefully accepting his arm. The nickname is sweet, and the warmth in his voice wraps around me like a blanket.
As we pass through the mess hall, he ducks inside and grabs a plastic bowl with a lid. On top of the bowl is a crappy digital clock. Just like I had asked him for. Suddenly, a wave of sadness crashes over me, and tears fill my eyes.
Jean Luc’s expression grows panicked, so he awkwardly draws me into a hug. I am the first to pull away. Without even saying thank you, I walk down the stairs and stand in the doorway to my room.
The room feels wrong.
I don’t feel safe here.
I grab a change of clothes and try the bathroom. This place is more neutral. I turn on the shower as hot as I can and get in. It isn't as unpleasant as the first time I tried it.
I don’t want to be freezing anymore. I don’t want to be powerless, lonely, or the same female that almost got raped.
The water stings my skin in a comforting way. I wash out the inside of my mouth and scrub at my skin until it burns. This time, I don’t even care that I am using Erik’s soap. It’s almost as if I do it out of spite.
I am finished in less than fifteen minutes, even with trying to drag out the shower for as long as possible. The sadness sneaks in under the door and puts an icy hand at my throat to choke me. I shove it away by drying off and dressing.
The door slams behind me as I try to escape the pain, but then I am greeted by the hallway where Conrad stood as he unlocked my door. My gaze goes to the handle. I wonder what kind of thrill he must have felt when he realized he could take what he wanted from me, and not a soul would know because I can’t speak.
I recoil, suddenly sick to my stomach.
There is no way I can stay in that room. My lips pinch shut. Iwon’tstay in that room. I turn my back to the horrible memories and go to the room on the other side of the hall. I jiggle the handle. It’s locked, which is expected.
Quick, shallow breaths accompany my shaking hands.Calm down, Helena. You can figure this out.
I go back into the bathroom and grab the comb. Tears slide down my face. Stacking everything that was in my arms next to me, I finger the teeth of the comb. The bristles could be stiff enough to work, though they are a bit short. Using my sharp canines, I tear several prongs off, and get to work picking the lock. My heart and my brain detach themselves from each other. My mind forces me to continue working, despite the rivulets of salty water sliding down my neck and dripping off my chin.
Not even a drop of magic exists in my veins, so I am left with my sheer stubbornness and panic. It takes me a long time to fidget with the lock, and footsteps and conversations start to come from the mess hall’s direction. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. My stomach clenches. My heart pounds.
Come on, I beg the lock.Work.
Just as I am about to give up, I feel the mechanism inside of the door twisting in just the right way as the lock clicks.
I scramble to grab my things just as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. When I enter the room, it is dark. I shut the door, though I still don’t turn on a light. My chest tingles, and I am lightheaded.
A curtain-less window is letting in the littlest bit of moonlight. By the light of those moonbeams, I walk through the room and head towards a lush-looking bed. This room is much bigger than my own, and it feels much more comfortable, despite the choppiness of the sea and the sway of the ship.
My bare feet connect with a fur rug, and I continue forward until I hit the bed. Drawing myself up, I locate the side table and clumsily put down the clock, clothes, and book. I cling to the sheets for a few seconds, trying to breathe as deeply as my lungs allow.
You’re okay. You are safe now. Nothing happened,I think over and over.
After a few moments, the dizziness passes, but then the shivering starts. I peel off the lid on the bowl and take a deep breath. The broth is herbal and rich. It smells like comfort. I bring the bowl to my mouth and drink. A little bit dribbles down my chin.
It tastes like comfort, too.