Chapter 4
I don't know what Smoker is to do to me. I am up against a wall and trapped in handcuffs. I can't think of anything. Whatever crazy ideas that were racing through my mind only lasted for an instant. Nothing that is being conjured up currently in my spastic and tumultuous mind would get me out of my predicament. "I am dead," I thought.
I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to be afraid. Whoever is threatening you won't be able to see straight after I'm done with them." Smoker says softly. Then I form a coherent thought, "What am I hiding?"
I have nothing to hide. The thought liberated my mind. The truth hit me like a baseball bat to the head. I'm the world's biggest idiot. I can tell him what happened to me. There is no way anyone would believe my wild tale. Although I do believe that if we don't open a window that I will die from asphyxiation. I was taught to look people in the eye when you speak to them, but right now I know Smoker is staring intently at me. That makes me feel extremely self-conscious and shy. Silence is a friend that I know well, but this silence is a nefarious villain that pressures me to speak. I feel everything closing in on me trying to engulf me. "Do it. Man up, Rose." I order myself.
I look up and say, "Y-you can't handle the truth." I sound so condescending. Inwardly I cringe at my stupidity. "Is that so?" He asks. "Try me." He pulls me back toward a chair in front of his desk. I take a seat in front of the scariest guy I've ever met and tell him the *whole nine yards. While I'm butchering my anecdote with pointless +polysyndeton and awkward eye contact Smoker opens a window. I'm can relax a little now that I can breathe like a normal person. The panic ebbs from my body with each passing word. Smoker examines me. "That was… interesting." He says skeptically. I sigh and think, "What am I going to do now? I am stuck here. There is no return." It finally dawns on me that I will never see my friends or family again. I'm stranded here in One Piece. NO! NO! This can't be. I won't let it. I attempt to deny reality.
The foundation of my world is crumbling underneath me. Reality and reason are being sucked into a void of insanity and chaos. Just as I was beginning to seriously contemplate my life, Smoker says, "You should see a doctor. What's your name?" "I'm not crazy!" I burst out an automatic response. I ponder about how to explicate my journey. The simple answer is- I can't. He's going to send me to an asylum. Do they even have asylums here? I slump in my chair feeling like I'm about to start a battle I won't win. The sadness creeps into my face and my very being. This is the lowest point in my life so far, I'm absolutely separated from my everyone I know for eternity, I'm a hair away from going to a funny farm, and I'm going to go there smelling like cigar smoke. This admiral or vice admiral or whatever he is doesn't seem so like such a big deal now.
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed you. Fortunately I saw you fall from the sky like you said. I'm not sure what to do with you, but you are probably someone of importance. I don't get many random people falling out of nowhere. Would you join the Marines?" Smoker asks me.
I think about it. "Why would I join the Marines? I know zilch about sailing and I am a sorry excuse for a fighter." "No." I tell him. He extinguishes his two cigar stubs on an ashtray. "What do you plan on doing?" He asks. "Not getting killed," I quip instantaneously wishing I could put tape over my mouth. From what I remember Smoker is actually a good guy. I guess he's trying to help. There's a break in his stone set face. It might be surprise or empathy. I don't know. "How will you live? You have nothing. You're a street vagrant now. Nobody is going to hold your hand from now on." He says attempting to reason with me. "I'll live without hand cuffs for starters." I reply apparently ignoring my own advice to stay silent. Smoker glances at my writs, but doesn't stir.
I can get a job, rent a room and get ahead so I can…I'm not sure. I'll meet my perfect guy, maybe have kids someday. That doesn't sound very fun or intriguing. On the other hand, I've seen a single pirate plow through thousands of Marines. My entire future lies in front of me. If I were at home I would know what to do, but for now I try not to think of home. "Any plans so far. Please inform me of them before you leave." Smoker taunts. He leaves me with only one option for now. "Get a job and a place to stay for the night." I tell him. "The world isn't a nice place for fifteen year old girls to be running around in by themselves. I can start you off with errands, paperwork and that sort of thing, since you're not old enough to join. Want the job?" He offers.
I mull over the proposition. "No thanks," I answer. My face is void of emotion, because I've just asked the dealer to hit me. I'll take the chance and see what happens. Besides if I direly need a job then I can come back and beg for one. "Why do you refuse?" He asks. That was not the desired answer evidently, because his tone was challenging me to a fight. "Do I need a reason?" I quip. "Yes. If you give me any more back talk I will throw you out of here as you are. I can't let you just walk out of here without knowing that you'll be alright in the future. Your parents aren't here. My conscience would bother me if I didn't help you." Smoker says. If I'm thrown out as is, then I would become the town fool. Nobody wants a criminal or idiot around them and with handcuffs on I'm labeled as both.
"I'm seventeen, not 15," I lie, "I can take care of myself." The walls that usually surround my mind are back up now. I normally don't have deep conversations about myself to strangers. It feels like people can see inside me and poke around. My friends are a different story. My stomach grumbles. Being terrified distracted my hunger for a while. When I am hungry I am not a happy camper.
Smoker stands up and starts to exit the room. "Follow me." He orders. He must have heard me dying of hunger over here. I follow him, but to the protest of my body. As we continue on my mind leaves my body. It was nearby and still controlling me like a puppet master. My body was becoming exponentially sluggish and unresponsive. My vision is getting fuzzy. I try to push myself, but it is too much for me to handle. I surrender.
Author's note: *everything. It's an American idiom. +and… and …and… and …
I have some questions.1. Is my work really worth reading? 2. What bugs you about my writing style (not plot)? 3. Do I overuse any words? 4. Do you think I could do this professionally?
