Hooked

Chapter Thirty Four

... Smee ...

I mopped the ground, the floor becoming slick. I nearly slipped on the spotless trail I had made.

When I could almost see my reflection, I looked up, astonished to see that everyone was gone. They had left their posts; their mops left on the floor, causing puddles here and there. Only a young boy named Jim still stood by his mop bucket, looking as confused as I felt.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He shrugged and said quietly, "I don't know. It's like they all disappeared."

"What- what should we do?" I said, unsure if we should do anything at all.

"We can't just leave our jobs unfinished. You know how the Queen gets," he said with a look of disappointment.

"We are nearly finished..."

"Look, I know you're a new slave," he said with a stronger voice, "but 'nearly finished' doesn't cut it here."

I was shocked by his sudden mood change. "What is the worst that she can do?"

There was a distance in his eyes as he said, "Was that an actual question?"

I was silent, swiping the mop across the floor again.

After I was sure we were done, I placed the ragged, tangled mop into the water bucket, and sighed.

Jim jumped at the sound, his shoulders rising with tension.

"We should go see-"

He interrupted me, "We aren't done, yet."

I looked around. The floor was sparkling. "What do you mean? When are we supposedly done?"

"Once the dinner bell rings. It doesn't matter if we think we are done. We aren't done until dinner."

I looked at the grandfather clock in the corner, the ticking reminding me of Hook's intense annoyance with the simple sound. Despite time 'not passing', hours still existed. We had to have some type of order in Neverland. The sun still rises and sets, so we might as well have clocks. I never knew why Hook hated the sound of them. I found the sound a bit annoying at times, but Hook... he despised the sound like it was his worst enemy.

"Dinner doesn't start until six, correct?" I asked and looked back at him.

He nodded.

"It's not even one, yet," I said, disbelief lacing my voice.

"Yeah, so we have a little more than five hours of work to go. Clean, clean, clean," he said, clearly annoyed.

I blindly mopped the already shining floor, my memories once again playing out like a film in front of me.

...

My father was always a bold man. He always stepped out of line. He rebelled against every kind of authority. I remember he was a sailor - just as I was.

When I was younger - when I lived in The Land of Wealth with my family - I always believed my father to be 'just a sailor' not a pirate. I never would have dreamt it.

I remember the day that I found out his secret. No one else knew. Just me.

I still recall our quaint little house that sat on a hill next to a pond where I would catch tadpoles, frogs, and dragonflies. And after I did so I would run into my sister's room and release the catches of the day. How she threw a fit!

My mother would scold me, but I only kept doing it day after day.

I remember how my gentle, loving mother would tell my sister and I stories by the fireplace... my favorite story was the one with the frog and the princess. I loved to tease my sister with it.