a/n: warning this is the rape chapter. It's minimal but still present. Be aware. I've made it so this chapter isn't crucial to the story, if anyone is in anyway affected by the subject just skip to the next one.

Chapter Two

Powerless

Piper sat at the end of the long wooden bench, her chin balanced on her folded hands. Around her, the ship creaked, drunk pirates roared, concubines laughed loudly, but the brunette's ever-changing eyes remained glued to the candle before her, watching as the flame swayed softly to the calming rhythm of the ocean.

The girl felt an ominous darkness climb up the protruding notches of her spine, wrapping around the nape of her neck and disturbing her peace. Someone was watching her, she knew instantly. She remained still, frozen in place, hoping he would leave her alone, lost interest in the stiff figure. The ship rocked across the rough ocean, and the resultant lurch jerked her forward, muddling her movements.

Piper swallowed thickly when his eyes didn't leave her, her teeth grinding behind a tense jaw as she covertly glanced behind her to pinpoint the origin. To her great terror, her startled orbs were met with a pair of dark determined ones.

The man to whom they belonged offered her a smug smirk, his lips twisting into a knowing curve that made her blood freeze in her veins.

The brunette adjusted uncomfortably in her seated position, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she tried to formulate a plan. Perhaps she could run, it had certainly worked in the past. Piper stood up from the bench and her heart dropped when she saw him rise as well.

She moved as fast as her weak legs would carry her, darting towards the bathroom with her candle in hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Piper saw him follow and willed herself to move faster. To her surprise, her prayer worked and by the time he had taken two full steps, she was hidden in the dark bathroom.

Piper breathed in deeply, trying to find relief in the putrid air of the dank room. Her calloused fingers slid across the wooden door, making quick work on the lock. Once the door was shut and securely locked, Piper set the candle on the ground, careful not to burn anything, and pressed her dirty fingers into her temples, trying to calm the headache beginning to fester.

The dark-skinned brunette leaned back against the wall and focused on the rise and fall of her chest, watching it slow and finally steady. She slid down the wall and curled her knees into her body, finding refuge for the dozenth time in the enclosed space. She sat there, silent, waiting, for what felt like an eternity, before looking up.

She was about to stand up when something caught her eye in the corner of the bathroom, a momentary glimmer among the darkness. She bent down and reached past the medieval-looking toilet to pick up the shiny item and was surprised to see a small hand-held mirror. She brought it close to her candle and examined it in the shadowed light. It had, no doubt, been left behind by one of the Pirates' many "temporary guests".

She sighed, rubbing her thumb in small circles along the surface of the glass and scraping away some of the grime that covered it. She could barely make out her own reflection in the dirty glass.

Piper knew she shouldn't look, it would only make her feel worse, it would only show her all she'd lost. But the mirror seemed to taunt her, mock her, testing to see if she was strong enough to face the person she had become.

Piper flashed her gaze towards the shaky reflection and caught a glimpse of dark skin but nothing else. She went against her better judgment and used the hardened tips of her fingers to grind away the rest of the dirt, allowing her to face her reflection head on.

She was unsure, when she first saw herself, who exactly she was looking at. It was a moment of ignorance, of bliss, that allowed her to believe she wasn't the girl pictured before her.

The moment didn't last long, soon enough, reality returned to her in a lung-crushing realization. Freshly swollen eyes looked back at her as she took in the broken image.

The girl looking back at her barely resembled the person she had been 3 months ago, the innocent girl she had been when she'd boarded this ship. The long brown hair she had previously prized so greatly, the envy of her sisters and friends alike, was not knotted and riddled with dreadlocks. Her formerly bright eyes, her father's favorite feature, were dark and sunken. The somber bags underneath the slits and the bruises that spotted her body only worsened the blow.

She'll save us all, her mother had told her father. She could not have been born so beautiful for any other reason.

Not anymore, now her complexion was sickly. She had lost any undertones of pink and bronze and life and all that was left was a pasty yellow.

She supposed she had completed her mother's wish; she had saved them, however much it had cost her.

Piper swallowed thickly as she fought to accept her appearance. It had never meant much to her in the past, but she could barely stand to look at herself now. Her face had grown skinny and weak from lack of nutrition. The hollows beneath her cheekbones were more prominent than ever, no longer conveying elegance but rather debility, the culmination building towards eventual collapse.

Her entire body was caked in a thin layer of dirt and sweat and blood and all that she had sacrificed, all that she had lost. On her neck, Piper could see the dull marks, purple patches - hearts her sister reminisced once, told her it was a sign of love, of adoration, of utter indisputable devotion.

That was then.

Now - now they made her want to curl up in the corner and never get back up, never face reality again.

A tear rolled down her cheek. The liquid managed to pick up some of the grime on her face and clear a skinny aisle of clean skin. She blinked rapidly, fanning her face and wishing the tears to stop spilling down her cheeks.

To her surprise they did. They hadn't in so long.

Perhaps she was evolving, becoming stronger. Or, more likely, she was simply growing tired. She was so used to the treatment that the public acts of submission had buried themselves into her soul, diminishing her into less than the shadow of a girl staring back at her.

Piper glanced around the small room, looking for something to protect her. Her gaze caught the state of the wall behind her. She inhaled deeply, fighting a gag as she dragged a flat hand along the wall. She pulled her hand back and stared silently at the filth before transferring it onto her face.

Piper took one last at her surrounding, peering at her reflection and deciding she was ready. She placed the mirror back in the corner where she'd found it and picked up the candle, her candle. She swallowed noisily and opened the door with a hard yank at the handle, returning to the party.

The young brunette had only taken a few steps when she felt a large pair of hands roughly grip at her waist, digging into it with a lack of delicacy that caused her stomach to plummet.

She froze, swallowed past the absolute disgust in her throat, considered her options, and turned around, the ugliest smile she could muster plastered on her face.

"Need something, sugar?" she croaked. She tried to sound cranky, to sound demanding and horribly mature, but she came off as naive, innocent, and afraid.

The man didn't say a word, simply lowered his hands to the curve of her backside and eyed her with uninhibited interest.

"Sorry, babe," she declined his advance, attempting to shimmy out of his handle. "I have something I need to attend to at the moment." She tried to turn away, she tugged and pushed and shoved but he didn't let go, he was concrete, anchoring her in place.

"Yeah," he agreed, slurring his words as a lopsided grin spread across his face. "Me."

"Later," she promised and set down her candle, using both her hands to relinquish his vice grip. But he didn't let up.

"Now," he retorted, his teeth biting at the word. His nails dug into her hips, tearing at her skin as her staggered breaths pulled her apart inside.

"Honey," Piper tried, putting on her most hypnotizing voice.

My sweet little girl, her father had always smiled when she'd pleaded, unable to resist her sugary sweet tone, her antics no doubt ensuring her the family's last pastry.

"Another time I'm sure I - " he laughed roughly before shoving his hand over her mouth, silencing her.

"No talking," he commanded and proceeded to lap at her pale skin, attacking her collarbone like a rabid dog.

So much for talking my way out of it, Piper chuckled to herself humorlessly. It struck her then, that this was the moment she had been dreading since she'd arrived here. This was that moment that all the other girls talked about.

His wet mouth trailed down her neck placing sloppy kisses along her clavicle and biting harshly at her worn skin. Piper was desperate to escape. She wanted it to stop, she needed it to stop, but it didn't. She wanted to fight, she needed to fight, but she couldn't.

He back her up against a pair of rice filled barrels and flipped her over.

Piper wished she'd blacked out, but she hadn't. She was devastatingly conscious as she was violated in the most intimate way possible, stripped of her self-respect and her will to continue and the strength she had thought she possessed.

The brunette felt hot tears rush down her face and tried unsuccessfully to relax her limbs.

It'll be better that way, someone had told her once. She barely remembered her name now, only her suffering, only her story, so similar to Pipers.

"Are you crying?" he sneered, roughly pulling her chin up when he was finished.

"No," she lied in a pitiful voice, trying not to feel ruined, not to feel totally and completely destroyed.

"You stupid bitch." He laughed. "I'm the one who should be crying." His eyes scoured her figure, lingering on the traces of mud littering her skin. "Look at you, you're disgusting."

Piper was silent.

He shook his head, letting her chin fall out of his dirty hands. He tucked himself back into his pants and stumbled away from her, sitting down at the nearest table and passing out in a drunken stupor.

Piper's eyes followed him until he was unconscious. The rest of the room carried on as if nothing.

It was nothing, she remembered. It was nothing.

Piper's knees trembled below her, an unfamiliar pain overtaking her body as she forced herself not to slump to the floor. She pressed a hand to her chest, to her torn bodice and bare breast and demanded her heart stop, to halt its movements and freeze where it was.

It didn't.

Piper choked on a sob and sat against the barrel nearest her, the very barrel she'd been thrown onto.

She felt totally, completely, wholly defenseless.

He'd just raped her, the word was gruesome, crude and inhumane, but it was the truth.

He had fucked her, had assaulted her. And she hadn't stopped him, hadn't murdered him where he stood for trespassing, for taking the only thing she had left.

He didn't even ask.

At the reminder of what had just occurred, of the bile trailing down her inner thug, she felt her body lurch forward. A gag caught in her throat and jerked her body without her permission. Knowing it wouldn't be long, Piper pushed herself off the barrel and rushed into the bathroom, into the room that had offered refuge, even if it had only been temporary.

Piper threw herself in front of the foul-smelling toilet just in time. She kicked the door closed as nothing the remnants of yesterdays dinner spilled from her lips.

Every dark memory flashed before her eyes as she wretched bile poured out of her. She thought of everything, of everything good, of everything bad, of anything in between. A feeling of hopelessness overtook her, pushing her to the ground, collapsing her until she could no longer hold herself up, until she sunk into the floor.

Then she was falling and all she could see darkness, any trace of light extinguished from her vision, from her - from her - from her.

Piper's eyes flashed open, her lungs gasping desperately for air. The brunette sat up, her gaze scanning her surroundings, making sure.

Just to be sure.

Piper strangled a sigh of relief, her lips still quivering, her hands still trembling.

She felt a warm body shift next to her, cold feet kicking at her shins. She turned slightly, assuring she hadn't woken him in her fit.

Still trying to recover from her nightmare, Piper pushed back the sweaty hair that was matted to her forehead. Careful not to wake the Captain, she pushed back the covers and carefully stepped out of bed.

The cool air swept across her bare skin, sending shivers down trickling down her spine as she tried to slow her breathing.

She gazed out the small circular window of the cabin, seeking a distraction. The moon was out tonight. It was beautiful.

Beauty is a virtue, her mother had always told her. Don't waste it.

It had seemed like a curse back then, the desirable symmetry of her face, still did to some degree, even now.

It's both a blessing and a curse, he father, the more sensible of the two, had countered. A blessing because men will fight for you, they will die for you.

A curse, her mother had supplied, the words barely leaving her twisted lips before they dissolved into silence. Because they always want something in return, always want you in return.

Piper trod quietly across the room, creaking open the door to the Captain's private bathroom and slipping inside. She shut the door quietly behind her and leaned forward against the wooden table top. She took a few deep breaths trying to abolish the horrid images that stubbornly insisted on reemerging, of terrifying her, haunting her with the past.

It's different now, Piper declared inwardly.

She picked up the mirror the rather narcissistic captain required be kept in his bathroom - to fix my beautiful blonde locks. She stared at her reflection, boring holes into her own eyes, and attempted to obliterate any memories of before, when she was weak.

Her hair was short, the ends choppy where she'd cut out her dreadlocks. It was the first time she'd felt anything other than dread, the first time she'd felt like anything other than an object for other's pleasure.

There were colorful feathers woven within the short strands, almost as bright as her eyes. She no longer covered her skin with dirt and grime, preferring the healthy colors that accented her dark skin. Her features were no longer unnaturally sharp and bony, her cheekbones didn't protrude awkwardly from her thin face.

The disguise, the mask she had worn for so long had proved useless time and time again. The pointless facade had achieved her nothing, saved her from nothing.

Piper released a subdued breath as her heart rate finally calmed to its natural speed.

Her kaleidoscope eyes were bright, but they didn't shine with optimism like they had through her youth. Instead, they glimmered with an allegiance to life, a devotion to survival.

Piper found, interestingly, that she didn't much care.

As long as they were shining, she was still alive.

a/n: I realize this isn't amazingly written. It's also short. It's a hard topic to cover.

Oh well.

c ya next Thursday.