A Pirate's Life For Me

Bad Memories

I wake up slowly, blinking at the darkened room, at the flickering flames in the fireplace. It isn't smart to have the fire on. I know this. At the moment, I could really care less. Honestly, if the Guard were to walk in at this moment, I probably wouldn't even sit up.

But sit up I do, slowly, running a hand over my face, scratching at the dried tears on my cheeks. My other hand joins the cause of rubbing them away. I'd already spent an hour or so taking out my frustration on the fireplace, screaming and crying and beating the brick with the iron poker until blisters rose on my hands, and then I lit a fire and went to sleep.

I let them go.

I'll never know if they lived or not.

The Guard would make an announcement, wouldn't they? But they've been known to place two people in a fire and claim the indistinguishable bodies were someone else.

Hell, they probably never made it to a fire. They probably got shot the instant they left the place. Got Declan shot, too, and next they'll come searching for me, drag me back in chains...

I shudder, rub my face hard to banish the thoughts away.

They might've made it to their boat. Maybe they even got all the way to the next country. If they went to Griev, the border is only an hour from here.

Nah. They probably never made it to the boat.

Light floods the room.

I'm behind the fireplace in an instant, peeking around the corner at the porch light suddenly lighting up the entire backyard, showering through the window like a second sun, putting my dying fire to shame. I can't swallow past the block in my throat. They didn't make it. They got caught. They're here for me.

Voices.

Silently, I pull the iron poker from where I'd discarded it on the floor, retreating to the door, braced, holding the tip of the poker steady. My hands are shaking.

Useless. What good are you, if you can't even protect yourself?

I force myself to stand steady, pulling the poker back, changing it from a knife to a club. I'll smash some bloke's head in and run out. Maybe...maybe I'll even get all the way to the alley. Normally I can start some fight in the street and hide in the chaos. All I have to do is get out. And then run.

Again.

The voices are louder now, but silence in a hush as someone fiddles with the door.

I should have looked out the window to see how many there were. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Oh, well. It's not like anyone would really mind if I killed you here and now.

The door creaks open and I squeeze my eyes shut, spinning my body full force to slam the poker into whatever is in the doorway.

Miss.

"Jesus, Oliver!"

I keep my eyes shut and swing again.

Thunk. I hit the door.

"Hey!" Hands grab my arms, pull at the poker, push me back but I fight against them, wrenching the poker free and swinging blindly one last time before it's jerked out of my grasp.

I freeze.

I still haven't opened my eyes.

There's nothing I can really do to fight them now.