A Pirate in Time (Completed)

7

Water splashed over my head, pulling me under. The current was strong, but I fought my way back to the surface.

I gasped for breath as soon as my face hit air only to be pulled under once more.

When I tried to swim upwards again, I found I couldn't move my limbs. No matter how hard I tried, they wouldn't budge.

I wanted to scream, but I dare not waste my last few breaths of air. All I could do was watch helplessly as the surface rose higher around me.

Something brushed my arm. I turned my head to look for it, but it was too dark to see.

I could feel my lungs burning as I sank lower.

I suddenly realized that I couldn't feel the water on my skin. Looking up, I couldn't see the surface. All I could see was darkness.

Taking a chance, I breathed. Much to my relief, I did not drown.

My feet were on a floor, but I still couldn't see.

I shuffled blindly forward, stumbling into a wall after a few steps.

Feeling along the wall, I soon found myself at a door. The knob was cold against the skin of my palm and I gingerly turned it. Much to my relief, the door slid open easily and my eyes were assaulted by a ray of bright light.

"I better not be dying," I mumbled to myself as I stepped through the door. As I blinked away the blinding light, I was surprised to find myself standing in my kitchen. My eyebrows bunched together as I took a few steps forward.

A sound to my left startled me out of my internal onslaught of questions. Turning my head, I found my mother weeping hysterically into my father's arms. Her head was tucked into the crook beneath his chin and he rocked her gently back and forth. I was surprised to see tears in my father's eyes as well.

What were they crying about?

"Mom?" I asked tentatively, "Dad?"

They didn't respond. I walked around the kitchen island to stand beside them.

"Guys?" I asked again.

My father was rubbing light, comforting circles on my mother's back.

"Hello?" I tried again. Why can't they hear me. I reached out to grab my father's shoulder, but my hand went right through him, like he was a projection.

"Sh, it's okay, Marianne," my father whispered into her hair. A tear slipped down his cheek, "It's going to be okay."

"She can't be gone," my mother sobbed, "Not yet. Not now."

"She'll never be gone," he whispered softly, trying to comfort himself as much as her, "She lives on within us, just as my little brother does."

"Uncle Paul?" I asked him, though I knew he couldn't hear me. Realization hit me like a bus, "You guys think I'm dead."

I backed away from my crying parents and tried to call out to them, but my voice wouldn't work. I wanted to scream but something was stopping me. Another step back proved a mistake. My foot never made contact with the floor, and instead I was falling backwards into a black oblivion.

I tried to scream again. Scream to my parents, to my friends, to anybody who could help me out of this nightmare.

I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me violently. All I wanted to do was wake up, but here I was in a world of darkness.

"Elizabeth!"

My eyes shot open, and I was startled to see Jay standing above me. I was breathing heavily, and could feel sweat beading on my forehead. I didn't realize he'd been touching me until he released my shoulders.

"Bloody Hell, woman," he breathed as he took a few steps back from the cot.

"What? What happened?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, still shaken by the dream. I tried to sit up, but still felt pretty weak.

"You were screaming like a bloody banshee," he replied, looking just as shaken as me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks turning pink as I looked down at my folded hands.

Jay's expression softened slightly, "Are you okay?"

I lifted my head to meet his gaze before nodding and staring at my hands again. I noticed the light on my hands and looked out the porthole, "How long was I asleep?"

"A couple days," he responded, looking out the porthole as well. He sighed and looked at me again, "I can send some food for you, if you're hungry."

"That would be wonderful," I gave him a small smile, trying to amend my speech to fit this time period a bit better. I'd have to get used to this.

He dipped his head in a small gesture before turning to the door.