The Desired Victim

Chapter 5: This Dead Flower

Without any further comments, questions, or concerns from Grumsley, he led us on to the ship. It was pretty large suprisingly, but that didn't make up for how frightening it looked. It was all black, even the sails. And I had no doubt that the men who would be running this ship would be just as terrifying.

Emory seemed to be in an even worse mood than before. He yanked on my chains harder, and had this permanent scowl on his face. The only thing I could do was lag behind him.

Grumsley led us all the way to the dark insides of the ship. We walked down extremely narrow hallways, and I felt like I was back in the rat maze where I was sold again. We finally stopped at the end of the hallway, and came to a door. Grumsley fished a ring of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door.

It was a very small room, even smaller than the cell I was staying in earlier. All it contained was a bed, a stool, a clothing chest, and a desk. There wasn't even any windows.

"This is it?" Emory asked dissapprovingly.

"This is the best we can do, sir." Grumsley apologized.

"And how long is this trip?"

"It will take about four to six weeks to get to Mexico, sir."

Emory cursed. "Well, whatever." He sighed.

"Where are my things?"

"Someone should be on their way with them now, sir."

"Good. Now leave."

Emory's force and demands still suprised me. I wasn't used to being around such authority, other than my parents. I couldn't imagine speaking to a human being like this. I am a princess, but that doesn't mean I yell at everyone to get what I want.

As ordered, Grumsley handed Emory the key for the room, and left closing the door behind him. I hadn't realized I was shaking until Emory began speaking to me.

"Are you cold or something?" It was more of an accusation than an act for concern.

I froze, and the only thing I could do was stare at him.

"Look, I'm not going to hit you or anything, alright?"

I still couldn't answer. I don't know what came over me.

He pulled my chains roughly.

"Hey! Answer me when I talk to you, slave!"

His voice was getting louder, and tears began forming in my eyes. I don't know why I was so scared, he was just asking me a question. More like demanding an answer, actually.

"P-please don't . . ." was all I could choke out. Then I fell to my knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Emory didn't say or do anything for a while, I only felt his eyes on me as I wept. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Get up, slave. Quit your crying." He pulled the chains, and lifted me off the ground as if I was a doll.

"I-I'm sorry Emory . . . " I managed to cough. Then my heart stopped as soon as I spoke those words. I said his name.

Fear appeared in his beautiful brown eyes. But then anger filled them.

He lifted me up, and pressed my whole body against the wall.

"Who told you?!" He growled. He was inches from my face.

"W-what?" I mumbled.

He shook me.

"My name! Who told you?!"

"I d-don't-"

"Don't even tell me you don't know, slave! Who told you?!"

His gaze burned into mine like a snake. He was really hurting me, pressing all his force against my body to the wall. My knees wobbled, and I fell to the floor and started crying again.

"Jesus christ, is that all you do?! Cry?!" He was screaming now, which didn't help me calm down at all.

"I-I-I'm sorry . . ." I sputtered.

"Answer the damn question, Evelyn!" He paused.

I looked up at him, curious. Did he just call me by my name? It sounded so strange coming out of his mouth.

"I-I don't know who I heard it f-from . . . " I whispered.

"I'll find out if you tell me or not," Emory retorted, looking away. He had obviously made a quick recovery from the mistake he made.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Emory opened it, and it was some other gross looking man with Emory's luggage. Without saying a word, Emory threw all of the bags into the corner of the small room, swiftly fit my chains around a hook in the wall, locked them, and was out of the room before I could even understand what had just happened.

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