Ghost Rider

CHAPTER XXXIX: Sunkissed

(Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to AnnieWildfire , who gave me the inspiration for it. Thank you!"
  
   It was late at night when I heard loud footsteps and more converse than usual above deck.

Normally, I would have shaken it off as some trivial chatter, but I recognized those voices. The deep threatening tones, and foreign accent. This was not Viggo's voice, however.

Viggo's voice was smooth, like fresh yak milk on a winter's day. This voice was rough, jagged even. This was Krom's voice, which clearly meant that they had returned from their business venture.

I was amazing that such an inconsequential sound could strike so much fear into my heart; and, to be honest, I was ashamed of the fact. I was ashamed that nothing more than the sound of a voice could turn my legs into jelly, and cause my hands to shake like leaves in the crisp autumn breeze.

What frightened and embarrassed me more than the fact that I was scared of a voice, was that it meant that Krom had won in some way; wether he knew it, or not. Krom had succeeded in making me fear his very voice, even someone saying his name would make me tense.

It began to make me wonder if Viggo felt the same way about his pathetic excuse of a father. This cruel, evil man, who was formed in the depths of Hel and sent up to earth to torment the both of us.

Did his mere presence strike as much fear into him as it did to me? I didn't know, but I did know that Viggo hated his father.

I wondered if this hatred might convince him to escape; to flee this hellish place with me.

I cared about him more than I had ever cared for anyone before. I mean, I cared deeply for Vivian, Threk and my mother, even my brother whom I did not even know. However, this was a different kind of "care" and I did not understand it. I had never felt like this for anyone, ever. I wasn't sure what to do with this newfound feeling. It was strange and foreign.

I couldn't focus too much on this, though. Survival must always come first before any strange feeling. This was a lesson that I had learned long ago: logic over emotion. It was a rule I had lived by for most of my life. Emotions are like the sands in which the sandbuster digs its nest; hollow. Logic, on the other hand, is sound like a sea stack in the midst of the sea. Despite the merciless waves that crash up against its sturdy sides, it remains firm nevertheless.

As I contemplated all of the many thoughts flowing through my mind, I slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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Scrape, scrape, scrape.
The sound of metal against wood echoed in my cell, despite my multiple efforts in attempting to quiet it enough so the guards would hear it.

The guard had gifted me with a spoon with which I would eat my meal, but I had a better plan.

I rubbed the hard metal against the coarse wood, as I tirelessly worked to make it sharp. As soon as it was pointy enough, I would have a functional weapon and have a fighting chance against my guards.

I heard the clomping of leather boots making contact with the wood floors of the hull of the ship, and quickly hid my makeshift weapon under the same bucket in which my new clothes were concealed.

Quickly standing up, which made me a bit dizzy due to the lack of food and water, I leaned against the wall, crossed my arms and waited for my intruder to make an appearance.