Crazy In Love | Buggy

e i g h t e e n

Buggy was honest to his word. Over the next couple of weeks, he stayed consistently cruel to me. Multiple times, I considered apologising to him. I wondered if there was a way I could salvage what we had. If we could go back to how things had been.

I never did give him that apology. It was a mixture of me being too afraid of him to even speak to him half the time, and me knowing it wouldn't change anything.

It seemed as if he really hated me. The word 'sorry' wasn't going to change that.

So, I kept my mouth shut, and just tried to avoid him where possible. Even on days when I escaped him and his torment, I was still miserable.

My sea sickness never seemed to go away. I was nauseous almost twenty four seven. Bozo, the clown that I had assaulted, made his usual rude comments and threats.

The one and only good thing to come out of Buggy hatred and cruelty towards me was that all rumours of us being a couple had died out. In a weird way, I got what I asked for.

After the weeks of navigating, I was told that we had finally found an island that we could dock at for a couple of days. My relief was indescribable. Land meant a break from the sea sickness.

My joy was even more flamed when I felt the feeling of the sand until my feet. It felt like I was home again - which felt both nice and soul-crushing, all at the same time.

The island that we had found, called Selva, was basically just a giant jungle. Apart from the small bit of sand that we docked the boat at, everywhere else was packed with giant trees.

We walked through about three minutes of jungle, down a path that had been cleared, until we found the actual town.

My joy and relief was quickly destroyed as I watched the clowns do to this town exactly what they had done to mine.

I watched as pirates hoarded the people off, towards the large circus tent that they had set up (just like they did in my town), and the remainder of the pirates pillaged through the town.

They seemed to be in search of absolutely anything of value that they could get their hands on.

Although I wasn't on good terms with Buggy, I decided to try and plead with him.

I found him in the bar, holding a small glass of rum and watching as his men looted the rest of the alcohol. He looked proud of himself.

"Buggy?" He didn't even turn to look at me. "I need to talk to you."

"You're so serious all the time, Bets. How about a drink to loosen you up?"

"I'm not much of a drinker."

"Of course you're not."

I scowled at him, approaching closer so he had to look at me. He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at me. More than anything, he looked bored. He was destroying an entire town, and he was bored!

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're boring. I thought that was obvious. Or are you also stupid?"

"Fine. Fuck it, pour me a drink," I sighed.

In a way, I was letting him win. He had gotten me to do exactly what he wanted me to do. Yet, I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to prove that I wasn't boring. Or maybe I just thought the drink would help with my courage.

He grabbed the rum, which looked expensive, and poured me a drink, filling up his own glass up too.

I took a sip of the rum and, no matter how hard I tried to repress it, I cringed at the taste. I had never been much of a drinker - I would have the occasional wine, on special occasions. But never anything this strong.