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And Elliot

Freeatpeace xxx

It was so hard knowing he was gone. "I'll be back before you know it Fin." He had told me, well so much for that it had already been three weeks, three weeks was more than an eternity here, and when Jack came into the equation it was longer still. I wanted him to know…I would have liked him to know, the…mess I was in. He could make me feel better, maybe. But then again maybe he would reject me and shun me like everybody else. I just don't think I would ever have it in me to tell him. If I did, I knew he would probably never talk to me again. And for someone who has never and probably will never have anyone, that would be soul destroying. Since he had been gone I had smoked opium five times, and I was disgusted with myself. I could feel myself slipping, falling and spinning out of control into the waiting arms of a devil named addiction disguised as an angel named pleasure. And then there was that other little problem I had, hurting myself. I'm not really sure what I'm doing because frankly what kind of lunatic hurts themselves on purpose? I did. I do. I only ever did it because so many other people hurt me in so many ways, when I was hurting myself I was proving that I could too. Proving that, whilst they may beat me down into the ground and scar my skin they have no more control over me than I do over myself. When I was holding my hand over the dancing flame of a candle, when I was dragging a cooking knife over my hip, when I was out of control, I was in control. And they weren't. I had the power over my own fate, I decided if I lived or died, and no one else. I suppose I'm crazy, well then fine, I will wear that label with my head held high and be crazy until I died. I hadn't eaten in a long time either, even longer than usual. I didn't want to, my stomach ached and groaned but the sadness and self loathing that filled my stomach made me wretch when ever I saw food. So I began to notice changes in me. What with everything, my skin took on a greyish tinge; my finger nails a blue one. I was often cold, even when everybody else was fine, I could never sleep even though I felt hideous fatigue constantly and my monthly 'troubles' so to speak…had stopped. I knew that wasn't supposed to happen, it worried me so much but the stress somehow made me continue living the way I was. I felt so stupid because I hadn't even spent that much time with Jack, I had never even kissed him and yet…I was already a wreck without him, not that I wasn't one anyway. It reminded me somewhat of Romeo and Juliet, meeting but once and devoted there after. 'Yes though in this version Juliet is a beaten up whore and Romeo probably doesn't even care' I thought bitterly. I think it was because he proved in just one day, not even that, that life can actually be fun, I can smile, I can laugh and not care what people think. I had tasted the drug and now I wanted more, and, more. I was a full on addict after one small encounter and then my supplier had left. So when I wasn't working, when I wasn't in the den I had a love-hate relationship with, I went down to the docks, I watched the ships come rolling in hoping soon, I would allow my face to

light up when a young man with a red bandana swaggered off a boat.

I lay next to the stranger in my bed, breathing heavily. He had paid me generously so I suppose I couldn't really complain. The crippling emptiness that consumed me, really got me when I had just 'finished' with a customer. It just through into sharp light how insignificant love was in a place like this. Men spent months onboard a vessel, working hard and drinking harder, then they came here, found a girl as their play thing and then left again. I wonder if any of them had a wife somewhere. I wonder if this man did, I didn't even know his name. Perhaps he had children, children waiting for him on distant lands. I wondered if they would grow to learn his ways and turn out just like him, pirates. I turned over in the sweaty bed, and laid my head heavily against the pillow, looking out of the window and watching the gentle waves. They calmed me, the sea calmed me. In a strange sense the ocean was the one thing I could relate too. It could be pretty on the surface, or hideous. It looked like one thing but it had such depth, such hidden darkness that no man could ever know about. There were stories and rumours surrounding it, giving it bad names and sometimes it would whip up into uncontrollable storms that after long and violent hours crashed down and there would be debris left on the shore, silent evidence of what had happened and a light drizzle would fall until the water could settle again. It was fished and explored until the mystery was gone; it had its life taken by people who didn't understand. I wished I could just talk to the ocean, get some answers for my silent questions. Questions that would always be silent because I didn't know what they were, I just knew they were there. My eye caught a black shape on the horizon, another ship. It made good progress as I watched it smash over the waves, it's sails billowing proudly. I was so close to the docks, I could almost make out faces of people that walked below. A few people turned and watched just like me as the ship came in, from the way people pointed and turned to talk to each other, this ship must be well known. When I first came to Tortuga I used to love looking at all the different names ships had. I remember 'The Dancing Lady', 'White China', 'Sea Ghost', 'Broken Love' and my personal favourite 'The Bonny Charlie'. Obviously because it reminded me of home, though I had never managed to confirm that it was in fact a Scottish ship. The ship I had been watching was almost ready to make port now and I enjoyed seeing the pirates in their element. It looked like such fun to be high up in the crows nest, barking orders and climbing rigging. To hear the shriek of sea birds and know you were just as free ad they were. The sailors began to file off the boat, across the gang plank, some singing merrily, all looking in a hurry to get drunk and find a whore. I rolled my eyes. They settled back on the gang plank again, narrowed and then lit up more than the candle by my bed. The young man with the red bandana finally swaggered off the boat. And back into my life.

I threw off the sheet that was covering me, surprising the man a little. I grabbed my money and pelted out of the dory, down the stairs and into the rain with a smile on my face. Jack was standing on the dock, his eyes scanning the town in front of him. I think he almost bit off his own tongue when I flung myself at him and embraced him as tightly as I could. "Cant…breath." He choked humorously, I finally let him go but it took a lot of self restraint not to just fling myself right back at him. "Fin!" He exclaimed with a smile, but his face fell and he wore a frown. "You look…ill." He commented, deepest concern in his eyes. My face quickly altered to match his, I turned my face away and bit my lip, fighting the water in my eyes. But I couldn't contain one small sniffle. "Are you crying?" He asked. "No…" I lied, which was a stupid thing to try and do when a deaf man could hear the broken staccato of my voice. "Fin…" He said suspiciously and cautiously. "Did something happen?" He tried to say gently but to me it just sounded like interrogation. "No." I lied again. He wrapped an arm round my tiny waist and put his lips to my ear, "You can tell me if someone does something to you, you know." He said quietly, conscious that we were surrounded by people. I nodded ever so slightly. He gave a tug on my waist, walking me down the street with him. "Where are we going?" I asked timidly. He just smiled at me with bright eyes and continued to lead me through more streets I didn't really recognise. The way his eyes were darting around made me think he was avoiding someone, then again I could have just been imagining things, I did that quite a lot. He kept his head low and I instinctively leant into his body, feeling that we weren't safe somehow. A few men passed behind us and he began to quicken his pace. "Jack…you scaring me." I whispered to him, but all he did was hold me tighter. Then the voice came from behind us, it made Jack stop dead in his tracks and stiffen his body. They had the same accent as Jack, London, and from the same area too. The voice was low, gruff and chilling. "Where you headed boy?"

He gave me a squeeze and then let me go, turning slowly and rigidly towards the figure. It was dark but I could make him out, he wasn't a young man, with a weather worn face and kohl under his eyes that matched Jacks. He had long thick dreadlocks, tied back with a bandana and various trinkets tied into them. He wore a large hat with a feather in it and a magnificent, long, embroidered coat with huge cuffs. "What do you want dad." Jack said through gritted teeth, I raised my eyebrows. Jacks father, what was he doing here? "That's captain to you boy, so long as your crewin' my ship." He said calmly yet threateningly, ah that explained things then. He stalked over in our direction his eyes cutting in to me. He walked in slow circles around me, looking me up and down with a slight look of distaste on his features. "Who's this" He spat, not bothering to look in his son's direction. Jack swallowed loudly. "This is um Fi… um that is I should say Ealasaid! She be from Scotland." He sounded almost proud when he said it, it would have made me smile if I wasn't being so intensely intimidated by the man before me. "I don't give a shit where she's from! Is she whore." He asked venomously. Jack looked shocked, his mouth gaping open. "uh…no, no." He lied for me, though I'm not sure if he knew he was lying. "Bar wench?" He took another guess. "Well uh…" Jack stuttered. This time he spoke to me. "What's your game girl?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. All I could do was shake my head, too frightened to speak. He whirled around to jack, and spoke close to his face, very softly. "No boy of mine is to talk to or be seen with a dirty creature like this do you understand that." Jack frowned deeply but said nothing, perhaps Jack's father would do to him what mine had done to me. Now he whispered in my ear, "Get out of my sight." And as quickly as my blistered feet could carry me I sprinted away from them both, large tears streaking down my face.

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