Game Piece
The lid to the trunk easily closed, and it reminded her of the heavy Bible her father used to read to her after dinners. So much finality whenever he shut the heavy Book, and she knew this part of her life would never continue.
It was hard for her to believe it had only been less than five years since she'd started on this crazy adventure. She thought back to her days spent in the tropical sunshine, entertaining thoughts of eligible suitors while attempting to dissuade the obvious advancements of one William Turner. Her days had been spent pursuing frivolous activities, none of which made sense anymore.
When that pirate- she refused to think of him by name now- had tossed her into the adventure, it had been like waking up from a long sleep. She could think, move, and feel things on her own. There was no need to ask anyone's permission- only ask forgiveness where warranted.
She loved her new life, but in the beginning she had been so naïve. Things weren't as cut and dry as she'd first believed about pirates, and there was plenty of rum thrown in to confuse everyone. Over time, she felt her attitude toward life changing. It wasn't very subtle, but neither did she wake up one morning to stare in the mirror and gawk at the unwelcome stranger who had taken her place.
Perhaps she was only then discovering who she truly was.
Of course she'd been manipulated in the beginning; they all had. That was the pirate's way of doing things. They were like his play toys; he was only using them to get what he really wanted, even if he did hide behind a supposed code of honor.
But then, she had done the manipulating, and as sickening as it was, she had reveled in her new-found power. Instead of being a simple game piece on a board, waiting to be moved however the player wished, she had become the player. She directed the strings of her puppets subtly; half the time, they didn't realize she was using them to reach her own ends.
There were times she noticed their roles changed. She would play the pirate and William, and then they would play her. It was a never-ending game of cat and mouse, of switching sides, and switching roles.
Now, she was putting all of it behind her in the confines of one simple pine trunk that by rights should have been on a ship. But it wasn't, and neither was she.
She'd given up her role as a player in the game the pirate daily played, and she'd given up her title as game piece.
From now on, she was just herself.