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“What?” I snap, wondering if I can take him.
He smirks as though I amuse him then he says something in a language I don’t understand, maybe Russian. I pick up a couple of words but can’t decipher anything beyond the word time.
His eyes soften and he takes a step towards me as I prod my porridge with a shiny metal spoon. I hold it up like a weapon as though I can do anything with it. Maybe I could scoop out his eye? That mental imagery instantly puts me off my porridge.
“Come,” he snaps, pointing at my food and motioning for me to eat. “Quick, quick.”
I spoon some of the sweet, gloopy mixture into my mouth and swallow with difficulty.
He looks at the watch on his wrist and sighs.
I rush it, swallowing the remaining few scoops as quickly as I can. I should be warier of the food but at this point I just need to eat.
“Come,” he snaps again, taking the bowl from my hands.
“Don’t come near me,” I yell when he reaches for me.
He raises his hands and steps backwards.
I wrap my body and head in the bedsheet and stand, keeping everything covered the best I can, looking like a little white riding hood ready to walk into a trap.
He nods and steps to the side where an older, haggard-looking woman who can’t be past forty but looks sixty, sneers at me. She looks me up and down before stomping away while bellowing, “EDWARD!”
Great, I thought maybe I’d found a saviour but she frightens me more than the men. There was a look of hatred in her eyes that penetrated my very soul.
The boy ushers me on, saying, “Quick, quick,” over and over again until we’re at the top of the stairs and I can smell the salty sea breeze and feel it over my bare feet.
I wish I’d grabbed my sneakers yesterday.
Why didn’t I grab my sneakers?
I rationalise that I was in shock and not thinking straight.
“TWIT TWOO!” a man cries as some wolf-whistle and holler as I’m led past them and up another set of stairs around a huge-looking glass and metal room that overlooks the ship. I can’t even begin to describe how large this thing is. It’s some kind of war ship with guns, a rickety-looking helicopter sits on a helipad in the far distance. Men walk by carrying equipment, guns, bags, pieces of metal. I hear some talking about fixing something in the berthing quarter, whatever that is.
I try to take it all in as I rise up the cold, sharp steps. There’s nothing on the horizon, not a ship, nor land.
Where the hell am I?
Tears blur my vision. I want to be strong but how do you find strength at a time like this? There’s no hope.
I’m naked, in satin, on a ship full of men likely miles away from anywhere that could help me.
When we enter the room at the top of the stairs, I keep my eyes down as we pass a group of men crowding around a table.
I recognise the captain’s voice so I look away. I look away from them all. It’s stupid and likely too late but I just can’t stare into the eyes of my captives again. It makes it all too real and any chance I have of getting through this alive and unharmed I will take.
“What the fuck, Jose? Why is the prisoner out of her fucking cage, you retarded fuck?” Clunk yells, getting closer to us as the men stop what they’re doing to look at us.
The young guy who rushed me here holds up his hands and babbles in a language nobody seems to understand. Finally, as the captain and Clunk get closer he yells, “Geoffrey! Geoffrey!”
“What the fuck does Geoffrey want with her?” Clunk sighs and shakes his head. “She’s not fucking tied or anything, you inbred little bastard.” He slaps the lad upside his head. “Piss off and learn some bloody English.”
“Geoffrey,” the boy cries, his tone one of explanation.
“Yeah, we know, you dumb shit, fuck off and clean the showers or something.” Clunk throws him out and looks at me with a roll of his eyes. “What you want me to do with her, Captain?” He looks at my bare feet and my arms automatically tighten around my body. “Shit, she ain’t got shoes on neither.”
So much bad grammar.
“Eyes back to the fucking table,” Captain yells, moving towards us.
I look down at my painted toes, counting the sparkly bits in the pink, wishing I was at home getting ready to rub it off and replace it with the shimmering mermaid sheen I bought last week.
“Did he touch you?” Captain asks.
I shake my head, no.
“Good.” He turns so suddenly I startle back a step, fearful that he might hit me. His movement was jerky and aggressive. “Let me make this clear now to all of you fuckers. If anybody touches her or harms her in any way there won’t be a warning. I’ll cut off your fucking fingers and toss them in the sea. Understood?”
