I never actually plan my story as I write it (The Mysteries of the Past, My Love is an exception because the plot is rather complicated...), so if this chapter doesn't make sense, I apologize and will look at that. I really just write as I go along. Enjoy!
I've never had dreams, only nightmares.
How long has it been, since Anthony laid eyes on sweet Johanna? Only a month? Maybe even less. But such a paltry amount of time felt like blissed eternity to the both of them. It was as if their life was prologue to the very moment they met.
The two joined a new ship called the Flying Pearl once they escaped. It was too dangerous to return to the Bountiful, in case Judge Turpin traced back to Anthony's past and decided to pursue the both of them in hopes of reclaiming his ward. Johanna had immediately proved to be a hardworking and strong woman. The new crew accepted the two graciously, or as graciously as a wild sailor could be.
Unfortunately, nothing good can stay.
Anthony noticed how withdrawn Johanna seemed. Ever since they escaped the bloodstained city of London, the little glow in Johanna's eyes seemed to diminish. Her voice would suddenly falter in mid-speech, and she would be marooned on her island of memories and silence. She seldom spoke anymore, but preferred to croon softly in her work, whether it was washing the laundry or knotting ropes.
"You ought to be daft, Hope," muttered Anthony's new companion, Carrow. "Ya shouldn't have brought a lass with you onto this boat." He cast a glance at Johanna, who was busily scrubbing the deck.
"And a pretty one too," murmured an eavesdropper, Lanson.
"Don't tell me you believe all the superstition about bad luck," sighed Anthony. "That's absurd. Without Johanna, you all wouldn't have clean clothes or darned socks."
"I'm not implying that, Hope," grumbled Carrow. "But lasses aren't s'posed to be sailing abroad. They should stay home and be a lovely housewife."
"She wanted to come, and I don't want to be separated from her for so long," Anthony argued.
"And," Carrow continued, his voice lowering. "ya can't ever trust every man on this ship when it comes to ladies."
Anthony's eyes widened. "You better not be speaking of yourself, Carrow!"
"Not me! Never me!" Carrow insisted. "I already have me own girl back in Liverpool. But you better keep an eye on some o' the crew."
Anthony nodded absentmindedly, not giving much heed to Carrow's warning. Who would really harm sweet, kind Johanna?
How foolish he was.
Anthony never really did notice the eyes gaping at his Johanna, glinting with filthy lust.
Midnight dawned upon the Flying Pearl as it slowly docked in the city of Wexford, Ireland. Johanna laid motionless in her cot, her chocolate eyes wide awake. All around her, men slept so soundly that the trumpets of doom would fail to rouse them. She shivered slightly under her ragged quilt. She clutched Anthony's hand, who was sleeping on the floor under her. She was afraid to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the images of the blood-soaked man and the dead corpses in the bakehouse flooded her mind and injected fear into her blood. She found it impossible to talk to Anthony about it, because she was scared that if she did, all of the horrid memories would replay again.
Johanna sighed and silently slipped out of the cot, wary not to waken any of the slumbering sailors. It was impossible to sleep now. She piled her pale gold hair into a neat bun and crept up on deck. The night sky was smooth and painted with the most sumptuous hues of rich indigo. Johanna outstretched a pale hand toward the sky, almost expecting to feel the night's downy texture. The black ocean lapped the ship's side and Wexford's wharf like a rhythmic song. The edge of the moon was glowing like a sliver of a pearl in its nest of black velvet.
Suddenly, padded footsteps sounded behind her. Johanna whirled around, but the moonlight was too dim to see. Her heart thumped apprehensively as her body froze with anxiety.
"Who's there?" she cried, her voice remaining steady. A nerve-wracking chill immediately shot down her spine, as if it was a premonition. Without warning, a brawny figure lunged at her. Johanna suddenly collapsed, her arms and legs pinned to the ground. The man dug his jagged nails into her thin wrists, his putrid breath blowing heavily against her skin. Johanna screamed for help before a pair of burly hands clutched her slim throat, choking the air out of her lungs. Johanna gasped and sputtered, struggling as hard as she could to free herself. The hammy hands pressed harder until her airway was completely blocked. She thrashed and flailed, socking the man on the chin, but without avail. The stranger cuffed and beat her violently until blood trickled from her injuries. Johanna's head spun with lack of air and pain.
"If you even make a sound," the man hissed. "then I'll just have to slice your pretty swan neck." He whipped out a rusting knife, the silver twinkling against the dark night. Johanna shuddered uncontrollably, fear swallowing her whole. The man slowly released her throat and pressed the dull blade against her skin. She closed her eyes and strained to breath evenly. What was this man going to do?
Without warning, the man gripped her tattered skirt and wrenched it away. Johanna gasped as he groped for her combinations. There was no doubt what he intended to do next. Without a second of hesitation, Johanna screamed and kicked the man as hard as she could. The man howled in pain and furiously stabbed with his knife. Johanna rolled out of the way and struggled to climb onto her feet, but was so dizzy that she toppled onto the deck. Her entire body ached and she could see the stars spinning wildly.
"Johanna!" cried a familiar voice. Anthony rushed to her side, shocked at the blood and bruises on her body. He looked up to see the oppressor, desperately wrenching his knife from the deck.
"You!" Anthony yelled. His eyes widened when the moon slipped out of the clouds' grasps, revealing the man. "Lanson!"
Lanson immediately abandoned his task and scampered off the deck with terror. He hurled himself over the side of the ship and crashed onto the wharf before disappearing into the sleepy city of Wexton. Anthony made to pursue him, but Johanna's heavy breathing and dry sobs worried him. He scooped her into his arms, wincing at the dark blood on her face and clothes, and dashed to the captain.
"Will you be all right, Johanna?"
Johanna blearily nodded as she limped through the streets. Wexton's doctor cared for her wounds. They couldn't see the ship's doctor because he had fallen ill to scurvy and died not too long ago. Irony was always their closest companion.
"I swear, if I ever see Lanson again I'll...well, I better not see him again," mumbled Anthony as he supported Johanna.
"It's all right, Anthony, don't be angry," murmured Johanna. She swallowed, repressing a shudder. It hadn't occurred to her till now that this was the second time her throat was almost slit.
"Does it still hurt?" Anthony asked gently. Johanna shook her head, leaning on Anthony. "We'll get to the ship soon…"
Anthony abruptly froze, nearly sending Johanna crumpling to the ground. She clutched his arm worriedly. What was going on? She glanced up at Anthony. His eyes were wide and livid.
"Lanson," he whispered. She gasped and whirled around. Lanson had failed to discreetly escape. He too stiffened, half-concealed in the shadows of the alleyway. Johanna felt Anthony's skin burn under his clothes and his muscles grow rigid. She trembled and gripped on Anthony's elbow tighter.
"Let's go, Anthony, leave him," she whispered.
"I'll kill you!" Anthony hollered. In one swift motion, he wrenched out of Johanna's grasp and darted towards Larson, his arms flailing and punching him. Lanson growled and struggled to wrestle Anthony away, bashing him against the head.
"Leave him alone!" Johanna cried. She hobbled towards Lanson before swiping a rock from the ground and hurling it towards his head. It met its mark with a loud thump, leaving a scarlet gash. Lanson howled before steering Anthony into the alleyway. The two disappeared into the murky shadows. Johanna was rooted to the spot with fear, breathing heavily.
"Stop it! Don't fight him!" she pleaded, staggering towards the alleyway. Suddenly, a macabre scream pierced her ears. Her eyes widened; who screamed?
A river of blood trickled out of the alleyway.