So after seeing the film for the third time, I got inspired to write this. Hope you all like it.
The signs that Yondu cares
Peter work up amidst the signs of sleep all around him from the rest of the Ravagers. As always his chest hurt, but this time it hurt more than normal. Rolling into a sitting position, he gasped in pain, an action that caused a few around him to twitch. Peter was immediately worried, even though most were passed out in beds or strewn about on the floor, but he knew if he disturbed their sleep he would pay for it dearly.
Peter gripped his head, as the thundering pain rang through him; he knew he was sick, he had been feeling sick for days. A settlement he hadn't shared with Yondu or anyone else, otherwise they'd call him "weak or a sissy", or any other words in that not too extensive vocabulary they possessed.
Finally noticing the sweat dripping down his brow, and how wet and twisted the sheets were, he figured out his temperature was high, but he couldn't tell how high. If his mom were here, she would be at his bedside with a thermometer and hot soup, but she was gone. Even after six months on the ship, the thought still made him cry some nights causing his pillow to become wet with tears and more punishment from the Ravagers. Peter had already accepted he was all alone in a harsh cold Universe and he would never see Earth or his family ever again.
At this point, he expected to be reunited with his father living the life of whoever his father was. But as they approached, wherever he was meant to be going. Yondu had ordered the ship turned around, and told the still crying boy, who still manages to produce tears after two months on the ship, that he was going to keep him…and if he screwed that up he was going to eat him! Peter still took that threat seriously he knew Yondu could be capable of it, if not one of the men would happily do it. In the 6 months as he tried to get his head around the concept he had nowhere else to go.
He had tried to listen, to learn everything to do everything right, even if his duties were only basic chores like scrubbing the deck and doing the laundry…even though he did his best, washing the clothes, until his hands were red and raw it was never enough. Peter knew he had to do well; the threat of it was one of the things keeping him up at night even though right now it was his head and shaking body. As he got to his feet, deciding to get some water from the mess hall. He quickly grabbed his t-shirt and gasped as he pulled it over his head. He felt raw and sore, but had no one to tell it too.
Stepping past the Ravagers, as carefully as he could with his bare feet feeling good on the cold metallic deck, he silently as he could he made his way to the mess hall, as the pain in his head increased to a roar. Gripping both sides of his head, as the word suddenly tilted and resisting the urge to cry out he was relieved to find he was all alone. The mess hall was the one area that Yondu always insisted be kept clean since every one of the crew used it and Peter had inherited the responsibility of keeping it clean. He had no desire to wind up one day in one of the pots which no doubt contained the breakfast, lunch and dinner. Food on the ship was disgusting, and Peter could count on one hand the times he had managed to finish an entire meal.
He had noticed how skinny he was becoming, but no one else of the ship had noticed, or could be bothered to notice. As he finally entered the mess, the few minute walk that seemed to take forever, he almost threw up at the acrid smell of the kitchen, it had been scrubbed to perfection, but the smell of the dozens of men just lingered in the air and felt like it was choking him. In the half-light, with his hands and probably body shaking he set to work trying to find some water, suddenly scared that if he activated the light it would wake someone up and he'd had to deal with their wrath as well as everything else.
His eyes burnt in pain as he tried desperately to find a glass if he could find a glass he could get water if he had water he would feel better. That was normal, normal people drank water, normal people didn't live on starships in deep space, normal people had families and parents and even he didn't have that anymore. His mind a myriad of feelings and fears, pains and exhaustion he barely noticed the moment his brain short-circuited and he fell to the cold deck with a thud.
Lying there before everything gave way to oblivion; he closed his eyes and wished he was dead. There was no one to take care of him, he was 8 years old and going to die on a deck in deep space as finally and mercifully he passed out completely.
To be continued
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