Discoveries | TMR | Three

4:9

Nearing six in the morning, and Nick has not slept.

At least, he thinks it's six. The batteries in the digital clock on his bedside table have long since died, leaving him to rely on the gentle chimes of the grandfather clock in the hallway to mark the passage of time. He didn't settle into this room until nearly one in the morning, glancing at the clock beforehand to ensure he knew the precise hour, counting down the minutes until dawn and the moment he could leave this hellhole to check on Maggie and Adeline.

His thoughts are filled with concern for them. He clings to the hope that there was at least a trace of serum on that boat for Adeline to use on Maggie's infected blood. He wishes that, in their isolation, they managed to heal the rift that had formed between them. But above all, he prays that they are both safe and sound.

The thought of losing either of them is unbearable, especially after the events of the previous night.

You see, aside from the aftereffects of Betty's death and Maggie's breakdown still coursing through his veins, much had happened upon this ship. The plan was for Alby and him to, together, find solace within one of the many rooms aboard this cruiser, but somewhere along the way, on one of the upper decks with balconies that gaze out towards the horizon, the two boys had encountered Oscar. Trudging along the wide hallway with a face that looked as though someone had just taken a hefty shit on his bed.

The boy's foul mood was unmistakable, and the first indication that Nick and Alby needed to make a swift exit was Oscar's violent kick that sent an oak end table crashing over, and an empty crystal vase soaring through the air. It shattered against the worn, pin-dotted carpet, sending shards flying and forcing the boys to instinctively raise their arms to shield their faces. They exchanged no words, but their gasps and startled steps back spoke volumes.

The second warning came when Oscar's gaze locked onto them, revealing irises so dark they reflected their own startled expressions, while the whites of his eyes were marred with angry red flecks - a clear signal of the fury boiling within him.

The final and most crucial sign that Nick and Alby should flee was when Oscar lunged forward and struck Nick. A grunt escaped Nick's lips as the punch landed squarely in his gut, doubling him over as he struggled to catch his breath. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and Alby's figure faded from view as he recoiled in shock. The entire world tilted dangerously on its axis when Oscar's rough grip clamped down on the back of Nick's neck, followed by a brutal knee to his face.

He collapsed into a puddle, gasping and groaning, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth and trickling down his face. Despite the fog clouding his vision and the relentless agony gripping his stomach, a seething rage ignited within him when Oscar spat on him and turned to leave.

Yes, despite all that ailed him in that moment, those two blows were the only that Oscar managed to get in before Nick saw red.

After that, everything became a blur; it was as if a curtain had been drawn over his memories, revealing only fragmented images of him on top of Oscar, unleashing a flurry of savage punches, then being confined in one of the cabins by Alby, Newt, and Matt while Vince and Herman dragged away a howling Oscar, hopefully to a place far from him.

That was when clarity began to seep back in, and his mind started to grasp the reality of the chaos unfolding around him.

Since that moment, he has been caught in a whirlwind of turmoil. From spitting blood into the sink and desperately scrubbing his face in the cramped en-suite, to battling the searing pain in his abdomen while praying that none of his ribs were fractured, to this very moment; he finds himself pacing anxiously between the cabin door and the balcony.