The Desired Victim

Chapter 32: This Ship Shall Land at Last

I slept on the floor for the next couple of nights. After my conversation with Emory, we didn't speak much more at all. I couldn't tell if it was because he felt that he had said too much, or if he just had nothing left to say. Either way, I wasn't going to strike up a conversation on my own. I was too afraid of saying the wrong thing, and seeing Emory's violent side once again. And if he got angry, there was nothing standing in between us to stop him from whatever temper tantrum he had.

Sleeping on the floor wasn't horrid, but I secretly wished I could've been in the bed with Emory. Just for the warmth and safety of it. It's not like he slept there much anyway. Usually he would pace the room, or fidget while lying in bed and get up and pace again and I'd have to listen to the floorboards creak every time he moved. Eventually the waves and the rocking of the ship would lull me to sleep for awhile, only to be jerked awake from nightmares or from shivering.

Every few hours, someone would come and bring us food and drink. Emory had no intention of leaving me alone, and I still hadn't come up with a plan to see Nicolas for an escape plan. We were mostly served stale bread, or some kind of soggy mutton and black rum. It's what I assumed everyone else on the ship had to eat. Nothing like the food Nicolas offered me when I first arrived here. Emory would have his share, and then he'd let me eat and drink whatever he didn't. It was somewhat humiliating, it was no better than being treated like a dog that was fed scraps.

As repulsive and uninviting the food looked, however, my body never turned it down and my tongue ignored the taste. I had never consumed any kind of alcohol in my life before then either, and the rum never failed to burn my throat. I'd go into a coughing fit, and Emory just stared at the floor, lost in thought. I didn't even want to imagine how much weight had melted off of my body and how small and sickly I probably looked. Bones poked out of my body everywhere, my fingernails had been bitten off weeks ago, the scar on my thigh stung anytime I looked or thought about it, my hair was wildly tangled. It made me sad to think about how much I had physically changed. If I looked in a mirror, would I even recognize who was staring back at me?

It was getting more difficult to estimate how much time had passed since I was taken away. It felt like years, but I guessed it was getting close to a month now. I was rarely ever outside, and there weren't any windows where I was on the ship, so I mainly judged the passing of time based off of when food was brought to us. Or Emory's moods. I noticed that he seemed to be more irritable and sulky whenever he woke up and he seemed to be more alert and paranoid in the evening. Or what I imagined was the evening. It was strange and unsettling, how this world ignored all laws, and was never consistent. Everything was constantly changing, and never for the better.

I was sitting in the corner in my usual spot, gnawing away at Emory's leftover mutton, ignoring the flavour and focusing on the energy it would provide. Emory was pacing the room for the hundredth time now, unable to sit still or relax. I was sure there were grooves in the floor from him pacing so much, but I didn't dare say anything. These were the kind of moods where he would explode without hesitation.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Emory looked straight to me, both of us confused. There shouldn't be anyone at the door, food was just brought to us.

Before Emory could even open the door, it was swung open.

"Unnnghhhhhh."

I jumped up from where I was standing, my heart racing. "Scourge!" I cried. I didn't even hesitate to push past Emory and embrace him, who was standing there looking very confused. But Scourge didn't pause for a second and he embraced me right back, being careful not to clutch me too hard with his tattooed arms of muscle. I only reached up to his waist, so I felt even more like a child than usual.