Quest of Freedom Sails

Chapter Three (Ness)

I wasn't aiming for him, I was aiming for the blonde crewman from the Boot who was keeping him pinned to the floor. Or at least I might have kidded myself into thinking I was. After all, I guess I have plenty of reason to get rid of him.

But I can't seem to shrug off the crushing weight of this burden. I didn't know it would be so hard carrying someone else's life, and there is no way to give it away, because I so badly want to just hand this burden over to someone else and have it be their problem not mine. My heart and soul and all the thin threads holding me together are throbbing, aching, to the point where I'm certain I'll burst apart. All that plays across my thoughts are selfish notions of loneliness and the hope of justifying my actions-mistakes. There's no where to turn, or go. I feel more trapped and caged than I can ever remember. All I want to do is run far, far, away. Ha!

I can remember standing there, meters from the dying body. I remember it like a dream. But the ache of aftershocks, images, playback in my mind. They feel very real.

The only other thing that keeps circling in my mind is that boy. The one with brown, tousled, hair that falls over his deep hazel eyes. He was beautiful, and brave, and now he is our prisoner, chained up in a cell. This seems so wrong. But I've never been entitled to any opinions of my own, I don't make decisions, I sit and do as I'm told. It doesn't matter, he shouldn't concern me. How did my life become such a bloody mess?

They first-mate is no longer the first-mate, he's Captain Regorgin Stout. He laughed at Kortzoph's death and rules the Shadow Crow with an iron fist. He's practically stepped forward to take responsibility for my murder of Kortzoph. He'd obviously been waiting for this. It frightens me how happy he is. It doesn't matter, I'm no longer the invisible servant girl. I think that some of them believe that I was forced to do it under Stout's orders.

It is the day after the attack. I look at the tiny gaps between each wooden plank and let my bangs fall in front of my face, I hide behind their thin barrier made by my strands of dark brown, hair that unevenly falls just above the end of my neck. I can feel the crews stare as I place each foot in front of the other until I make it across the deck.

"You wanted me captain?" I say, slowly, as I come to a halt just in front of Stout's tapping boot.

"Oh, that's right. So I did. Go mop up that shlop over there if you don't mind, then go tend to the prisoner in the brig, and after that, just go make yourself useful." I notice his tone of great superiority and it annoys me.

Well, it's certainly not like I have anything better to do. "Yes captain." Maybe I don't have to be thinking so hard about this. Regorgin will make it easy to lose my self in routine hours of work. I can become invisible again. But something inside me knows I can't, I won't. I just don't want to be the bystander any more. I don't want to be helpless, or afraid, not anymore.

"Do look at me when I talk to you, it's rude to stare at your feet, and after all, I have control of your life." His amused tone annoys me.

"Yes captain." I say again. He's obviously more than noticed me after the events of yesterday.

Looks like one of the crew-mates barfed again from too much alcohol. As I'm mopping up the mess I see the double agent that we had working for us on Bessy's Boot. He's been unconscious since the fight yesterday. He's running over to the captain waving his arms in the air. "Captain," he says, "I've got something!" He's holding a satchel in his gloved hands.

Regorgin, folds his arms and waits for the pirate to reach his side. "What is it boy?" The captain presses.

"Captain Stout sir," begins the domestic crewman, "Take a look at this." He pulls a yellowing, weathered paper out of his satchel. Stout studies the paper questionably, but then vigorously.

"Would you care to explain what this is?" the captain raises an eyebrow and eyes the crewman with a sort of superior curiosity.

"Well it's a map sir, it goes to the witch doctor's hut, captain sir." I almost snort at the eager to impress, overused sir.

"Ah," said Regorgin Stout, "and why would we be wanting to go there?"

The crewman shrugs and squints like the sun is in his eyes. "Why did Bessy's Boot wanna be headin there?" He sighs. "Look, I really think I've got something here. Do you believe in magic?"

"What was that, eh boy?"

"Magic sir, evil spirits, the methods of a witch doctor."

"I've never seen any reason to dig into that stuff." Regorgin's face remained stone cold.

"But sir, it's not just Ol' Bessy that was out after this thing, I heard that there's many crews in the search for this hut. Its a race."

"I'll look into it Darlow." The captain decides and storms past Darlow as a signal that the conversation is over.

I contemplate this knew piece of information that Captain Regorgin seemed to just wave away as unimportant. I leave to put away the mop below deck and one of the drunkards slips on the wet floor behind me. I feel like slapping a hand against my forehead.

When that's done, I bring down the prisoner's food to the brig. It's musty and quiet and dull down there. Each step I take blusters. The prisoner is in the cell at the far wall. I hold the food tray tightly as I approach the brave boy who would've knocked Kortzoph dead if I hadn't bloody gotten in the way. The images of Kortzoph's pain and blood starts to bubble up to the surface of my thoughts. I pause at the cell next to his. I could attempt to justify my actions. Maybe he deserved what he got. He'd never treated his servant girl kindly, ha!, what a crime.I take a deep breathe. I am a pirate, a bloody, nasty, ugly pirate of a girl. I am not pretty, or innocent. I am Ness. Just Ness, but do I even know who that is?

Maybe I'm tired of being Ness.

I take the final steps toward the hostage and silently bend over to slide the food under the bars. I don't dare meet his eyes. But he is stubborn.

"Well hello." He says in a smooth, unusually light-hearted voice. I keep my eyes on the floor. "Nice to have some company ya know? Down here you get kinda lonesome." I refuse to look up at his face. And then I just remember that beautiful, strong face. These are the words spoken out of those confident lips. My head jerks upward without my approval. I guess it's too late that I realize now that I'm terrified of him. And I am met with focused, sturdy, hazel eyes. They are polished with flecks of gold and staring right back at me.

And just then I'm frozen, incapable of looking downward. He smiles, "can I have a name?" he wonders. A few of the boy's wavy strands of hair are plastered across his forehead due to sweat and the rest falls below his ears, the ends going off in every direction. He's got dirt streaked across his face.

And my lips do as they please, "Ness," they say. I stay still and take in his face as he says the name quietly to him self. It's weird, I don't remember anyone calling me by my name before, I don't even think anyone's bothered to learn it. But that is what's written on the inside of my sleeve cuff, just Ness, and so that's who I am. Just simple Ness. But then I pull my dizzy thoughts together and assure him, " My name's Ness and you are an absolute fool." I look just above him, taking care to steer clear of his eyes.

I let out a long, sharp exhale of annoyance as I get up and start to turn around. "See you 'round Ness." he calls, I look behind me to get a quick glimpse of him before I continue to walk out of the brig.

I subconsciously decide to allow myself to wallow in my ambivalent exasperation for the idiot to take my screwed to hell mind off of my problems. It's nice to forget. Yes. I think I'll just stay in my dreams from now on. Where nothing can get me. And I can't mess up any thing more. Yeah.

I literally fall onto my hammock and run my fingers through my hair and yawn. I can just pretend forever.