Game of Riches (ONC)

The first step.

I spent some time with his books.

It was not my choice. He'd guided me inside and locked the door. Every moment he was next to me, I contemplated pulling out the gun and firing it on him, but that ever present dread stopped me. It was horrible to know I could end this at any moment if only I was a bit stronger. A thousand times I had run my fingers along its cold surface, and each time the memories came of my mother lying still, eyes unseeing, blood soaking her clothes and pooling on the floor. 

I'd crawled up onto the seat. The room had no windows, no connection to the outside world. It was like living in a bubble. I knew the world was going on beyond. People were dying. But I was cut off from it all, severed like a leg. It was suffocating, the air heavy to crushing. I threw the book I was reading about a siege somewhere that didn't matter against the wall and it slid to the group in a heap. It didn't help. 

I jumped to my feet and poured a glass of whiskey and chucked it back. I fell forward, leaning against the cabinet as I winced at the burn as it went down. Something caught my eye in that moment. A grate. A way into the air ducts. I had the overwhelming urge to shove the cabinet aside and crawl inside and out. I resisted and sat back down. I had a feeling that would come in handy later. 

As I sat, my mind continued to race through the day's ordeals. This day marked something I never thought would happen. I'd spoken to my father. And he had not rejected me. He hadn't welcomed me with open arms. He'd definitely been concerned. Baby steps, that's what I had to promise myself. We would work to regain what we'd lost. I couldn't believe that if I survived this, my father would send me away again. I thought I'd blocked myself off from feeling where my father was concerned, but today had proven me wrong. Or at least, it had ripped off the bandages I'd wrapped my heart in. If he rejected me, it would break me all over again. 

And then there was Evan. Another man that had broken my heart and then wormed his way back in. Someone on this ship that would die if I did not fight for them. I pulled the gun out from my waist band, grateful to the over-sized clothes. Ran my fingers from the hilt, over the barrel and to where the bullet would exit. Slipped my finger into the loop and put pressure on the trigger. Imagined in my mind pressing it down. I would get over this, for him. 

I put the gun away and stood. I was sick of sitting around doing nothing. I gripped the cabinet and tugged. It budged only a fraction. I went round to the over side and pressed my back against it and heaved, using the wall as leverage. The cabinet tilted.

And fell.

Everything came crashing to the floor. All the tumblers and glasses. The whiskey spilled out and stained the carpet. I held my breath, listening for any movement, but the walls were thick. Hopefully that was working in my favour. I picked up a piece of the shattered glass, careful of my fingers and used it to twist the screws off. The grate fell to the floor and I slithered inside, my only possessions the clothes on my back and the gun at my waist. 

The duct was a much more confined space than the Captain's reading room, yet the claustrophobia left me as I entered. A gentle breeze caressed my face and it was enough to regain the connection with the outside world. He could not keep me trapped.

Four years I spent in group housing. 

Those four years, I did not see the stars. I was trapped in an oblong floating through space. Disconnected from the world. The start of my life I had spent outdoors as much as I could, in nature. I was nature's child. All I had was a small bunk in the side of the wall, a mattress and a blanket. A couple pairs of clothes to hide from the others. 

It wasn't till Evan found me that I had a way out. 

He'd snuck into the girls dorms at night and poked me awake.