Could Have, Should Have, Didn't - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Twelve: To Forget

Arms enclosed around his knees in his hammock, Edmund stared unblinkingly at the ceiling.

Staying in the brig two nights ago was horrid and his wrist and neck still ached so much that he couldn't lie down like he normally would.

This was not comfortable. He needed a more solid place to sit. So his sore neck would be set upwards.

Sleep was again— out of the question.

Sliding quietly off the hammock, Ed touched the floor with his thick woolen socks and wove his way to a corner of the darkness he thought would be empty, he needed a change in scenery. Needed somewhere he could sit.

Thoughts drowned out everything. Not nightmares, just real thoughts.

Regretful thoughts.

Sad ones.

Based on his recent problems. Getting locked in the brig, caught snooping.

Bad kid.

He hadn't meant to be the bad kid. Hadn't sought out to be that. In all actuality, he'd always wanted to be the good kid.

Envied those born with the perfect personalities and qualities to be so.

Yet he wasn't born with those golden child abilities and so he couldn't be seen, even if he was good.

Nothing was ever good enough.

Then, then he did something bad, and then everyone saw him. So he'd continued being bad, because they at least saw him.

No, no he hadn't meant to be the bad kid, not at all.

Over time, though, it seemed to become his personality; became him.

And now, now he was scared.

If he wasn't this version of him, who would he be?

In the night, someone shuffled and whispered something, getting closer. Ed whipped around but couldn't make out a thing in the blackness. Interrupted from his mind, his world was a little fuzzy, everything sounded funny too. Everything danced. Like the boat was spinning.

"Who's there?" He questioned, getting up and moving nearer to the sound, his footsteps cautiously quiet, his guard fully magnified.

"Oh! Did I wake you? I am so sorry!" Ivy's voice came through the dark. What was she doing over here? Or up? Last night came to mind, when he'd found her all alone and crying.

Something inside of him didn't want her to have been there. He shook his head, and then, realizing that the motion was ineffective— she couldn't see him, he said, "No, no, I was already up. I just couldn't sleep..."

"Nightmares?" She jumped to ask, he could hear her fiddling with something and he strained to hear what.

Had she heard his restlessness all night?

He made to argue, but, when no one could see him, he felt his guard being lured away. "Yeah."

"That's awful—"

Shrugging, he sat down beside her, drawing his legs once more to his chest. "They're nothing new."

Maybe after a while of talking, he'd get tired enough to get up and into his hammock and sleep. Maybe she'd say why she was up, say something to explain what he'd seen the other night, and then maybe she'd leave and he could sleep here, in peace.

Something other than Ivy made a noise. Soft but just audible.

He froze. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ivy fidgeted. "I'm just feeding Cynthia." As if on cue, her baby made a soft squeak in the night, the sound echoing through the nearly noiseless boat beside the laughter and voices reverberating from far off.