Enslaved

Chapter 5

Killian's POV:

I wake up the next morning and instantly notice Emma isn't beside me. I yawn and glance over at the small clock on my night stand. 9:30. Breakfast time, I sure slept in late. I rise out of bed and change into a different pair of black leather pants and put on a black V-neck leather vest. I put my leather boots on and then used my fingers to part my messy hair. I then leave the room and walk above deck. Emma was finishing cleaning the wheel and she looked a bit sluggish and weaker today. I walked up to her and she quickly fixed her gaze on her work. She's probably embarrassed about last night. "Good morning, Love."  "Morning Captain." She says, still focusing on the shiny wheel. "How'd you sleep?"  "Good thank you." She says still avoiding my gaze. I don't blame her for being embarrassed, but I want to look at her gorgeous green eyes. They always make me smile. "Look at me, Swan." She looks up and I smile as soon I see her pretty eyes. All the sudden she starts rambling. "I'm really sorry about last night, I don't even know what came over me. I just-" I cut her off before she gets too far into apologizing. "It's quite alright Swan."  "But it's not, I could of slept on my own. I'm kind of surprised you didn't slap me or yell at me for asking for such a thing." She says a bit timidly, looking back at the wheel she was cleaning. "Why would you think I would hit you?"  "Well you throw me around and stuff." She says shyly. "I won't hit you Swan. I may throw you around a bit but I'd never hit you." I say sincerely. She looks up at me in confusion. "Well, you threatened to whip me, I'd rather get hit than whipped." She admits with a sigh. "How would you know what being whipped feels like?" She looks back at the wheel and swallows. "I'm just assuming from what I've heard." She says in a shaky voice. She's lying.  "Well, regardless I'm not going to actually slap you." I say, letting the subject drop for now. I leave her on the deck and head back to my room to think.

Emma's POV:

Phew. I thought he was about to figure everything out. Boy am I glad he let it go. I still can't believe I slept in the same bed as him last night. He was kind and gentle, he took care of me. I am ashamed of the fact that I let him see me like that, afraid, but I'm glad I broke through to him a little. I finally finish the wheel and head downstairs to start scrubbing the floors. This is going to be a lot harder and more painful. I haven't eaten or drank anything and my back hurts and burns all the time. Every now and then I feel some sort of liquid run down my back from my deep cuts. With the blood loss and lack of food and water, I am surely going to die in a week's time if I even make it to that point. I know this is giving up in a way, but I need to look out for myself and my family and this seems to be the only way. Besides, if he sees the cuts, he'll know my cause of death wasn't my fault. Then the crew will get punished, I just hope the few nice ones are spared less pain. Like Mr. Smee and William Turner, they have been so nice to me. When the Captain is below deck we often chat and help each other with the others' work. It's nice having some friends so that I can actually breathe a bit.

(Hours Later)

It's dinner time, and I've been tossing and turning on my bed since 2pm. This was hurting my back a lot, and I wish I could take something to ease my pain. It'd be so much easier to die if it didn't hurt so much. I sit up, a bit too quickly, and groan in pain. The door swings open revealing the Captain with my plate. Little did he know, I'll be feeding it to my little rat friend that stays in my room. He wondered onto the ship and the crew members were trying to kill him. He ran to my room while we were busy and I found him after my chores. I've just been feeding and talking to him. I know it sounds weird but he doesn't bite and never tries to leave, I think he likes me. Killian walks over and hands me my food and a fork. He then sets down a little cup of water on the floor in front of me. "Thanks."  "No problem."  He then sits next to me and stares at me. I start to shift, uncomfortably under his gaze. "What?"  "Eat." He commands. "I'm not hungry, just tired."  He continues to stare into my eyes. "Eat. Now." He says, raising his voice a little. I swallow. When I look at the plate, I notice there's more then my usual serving. Maybe he is blaming my lack of energy on the little amount of food intake I have. I stare back into his eyes, kind of challenging him in a way.