Chapter Nine

Freedom did not come with the dawn of a new day, nor did it arrive by the time of the following next sunrise. Day after day I maintained my state of captivity; freedom never drew closer than the nearest railing on this wretched ship. That isn't to say that I didn't try to fight for it. I lost track of my many escape attempts and their nuances. Any time they would try to move me across the ship I found myself fighting to be free of my abductors' henchmen. Each attempt was met with failure, and as they grew wise to my tactics so I became weaker unable to follow through on the most simplest of motions without being caught.

It would seem my persistence for liberation has struck a nerve, for after the first day the Captain and his wife along with a small number of crewmen left for a nearby town to conduct business of some sort. I haven't the slightest clue what their secret meetings could be concerning, but it is fairly obvious that they involve me in some way. In the meantime, I was left in the care of their personal manservant, an older fellow by the name of Transom. He's far kinder than the other humans aboard this overpriced wreck, even going as far as to lock me in a small room not so that I couldn't escape, but so that the men could not get to me. It seems that their memories were hard-pressed to remember the Captain's threat of punishment on the day of my awakening.

Unfortunately though, he is not nice enough to let me go, I'm certain that he finds his employers far more terrifying than I could ever be—at least in my present state. The exhaustion that stems from the daily pain of being exposed to their horrid Siren-proof nets and my lack of exposure to the ocean waters is really beginning to take its toll. If I can barely tolerate the agony I am in now, how will I ever survive an extended period of imprisonment? Is it even possible for my kind to overcome these sorts of conditions? Perhaps whatever quest my detainers are on currently will bring me some salvation, even if it is just short of free will?

I stop to mentally berate myself following this question. I cannot believe that just after a few torturous days I am already hoping for a semblance of mercy from these brutish pirates. They view me as nothing more than an exotic treasure, not even as a fellow being of this earth worthy of respect and fairness. Then again… if any of my kind were in this position, wouldn't they too hope that the pain will be lessened at the very least since these people are refusing to outright kill me?

The loathsome twenty-four hours continue to occur at their same wearisome pace, and it is many days before the leaders of this ship return. The crew spontaneously bustle about at the first sighting of their row boat. I can hear their panicked footsteps above me as they run about the deck. I had been locked in the little room for some time now, with only a tiny window to keep me company and measure the passing time with. Although I had been bound both hand and foot in shackles, this was not a good enough prisoner's garb to be brought before the Captain in apparently. Transom unlocks the door, an almost flustered expression like he is in discomfort has crossed his wizened face as he allows three men to enter the room.

Despite my lack of attempts to charm anyone, they still insist on traveling with a person who already has their ears plugged up. They aren't taking any chances since that first night when my chorus said their gloomy farewells. I know they didn't understand what we were trying to accomplish, and I don't think they realize I'm far too weak to try to entice anyone on that level, especially not with those atrocious nets sapping away any strength I manage to muster. I need to feed, I know I do but it is just not possible at this moment even though this is probably the hungriest I have ever been in my life… that I can recall anyway.

The men wrap a chain around my upper body to limit mobility and reposition my hands so that they are cuffed and nestled into my lower back. Lastly, ropes are tied around me in order to lead me better into the position that they want above deck. I have been partially dragged and mostly carried to the deck where my "masters" should be arriving at very soon.

While they were away, my natural clothing has deteriorated as my body tries to conserve its resources causing me to look even more scandalous than I usually intend to. There are holes and tears all throughout my garments; the already revealing skirt is made shorter, and my own hair does a better job of covering up my chest than my pale blue top does. What was once practical when I was above humans on the food chain now leaves me looking like nothing more than a particularly scrumptious cut of meat to those admitting to be carnivores.

I am brought to the center of the ship, a man on each side, and one behind me with a sword already drawn in case I decide to start attacking anyone. Someone begins shouting that the Captain is once more aboard the ship, and suddenly I'm blinded by the glitz and glamour that surrounds Captain Barbarro Wrathe and his wife Trofie. During my period of isolation, Transom would stop in on occasion and it is through him that I learned the names and professions of my captors. Just as I had suspected, everyone on this ship is a pirate, even little Moonshine. As a matter of fact, they refer to him as "the Pirate Prince" given for allegedly how notoriously wealthy his parents are and also due to the legacy that follows the Wrathe name. I don't know how much credence I can place in pirate legends, I don't usually tend to stick around and chat much with my victims regardless of if they are pirates or not.

That being said this couple is powerful and capable of great cruelty, as I am already aware. So what is next? Are they going to remove any of my limbs in a futile attempt to control me? I'm sure that if I fed enough I could regenerate any body parts they removed. That's if I am ever able to feed again…

My morbid thoughts are interrupted by the Captain's voice. "I see you are still alive and with us… Good."

"It would be such a shame for you to leave now, after all the trouble we just went through to get you a gift. Isn't that right, min eskling?" Trofie says following her husband's lead.

I'm fairly certain that I won't be liking this gift of theirs, whatever it is. Barbarro clicks his cane against the heel of his boot and the men on my left and right each put a hand on my shoulders and roughly force me to my knees. The man behind me slips a hand around my throat, lingering just a little too long as he sneaks in a quick feel of the skin before jerking my chin up so that my entire neck is exposed and I am forced to look up awkwardly at the Captain and his Deputy. There is a man standing by them, a shrewd rat-like human who keeps glancing at them nervously as if he is waiting to be punished for something he has done wrong. He's going to have to wait in line because part of my mind suspects that they might be preparing to cut my head off and store it in special preservatives so that I can be forced to sing for them forever. That's all I'm really good for, right?

"Alright Mr. Walker, let's see if your invention is worth its price." The Captain clicks his cane again and the man nervously scurries forward, his mustache twitching far too much to dissuade the animalistic image I have paired him with. He carries in his hands a circular package wrapped in loose cloth. Perhaps a beheading is not in store for me after all?

He begins to mutter strangely to himself with an accent suggesting that he is not native to this area, but from where I cannot place. "So this is the creature? Hmm… fascinating." Unable to resist he reaches a shaking hand forward and strokes a lock of my hair, He drops it in favour of running his fingers downward along the front of my neck, creeping closer and closer to the cleavage below without any sort of purpose as far as I can tell. I growl slightly, unappreciative of all of the unwelcome groping that has been occurring today. "Er," he coughs a bit before getting on with his business. "I will need the hair moved out of the way in order to proceed"

The man behind me who had been holding onto my neck and chin now lets go of his purchase in favor of gripping much of my hair in a tight fistful. The pull on my scalp causes me to automatically raise myself slightly lest I end up with clumps of hair completely ripped out. Walker's restless hands reduce his movements to little more than awkward flutters as he attempts to unwrap his package.

His slowness is not cherished. "Come, come now Mr. Walker, we have schedules to abide by. Is there something wrong with the device? Are you aware of what shall happen if this contraption is not in working order?" Trofie's voice is like icicles compared to balminess of the approaching evening. For a brief second I am grateful that I am not Mr. Walker, and then I remember I'm on the wrong side of whatever this "present" is.

At last the wrappings are pulled off of the object and the mechanical thing is revealed. It's a combination of metals, some light and some dark, coupled with two thin horizontal stripes of a neon blue color, one on each side of a blue dot in the center. I'm not sure what to make of it, but if I had to guess I think it's some sort of necklace or collar. The fact that my neck seems to be the primary attraction at the moment is what's pushing my appraisal in that particular direction. Walker fishes a cylindrical pin out his pocket—a key—and slides the little thing into the side of the collar facing his body. Whirring sounds are heard as the device unlocks itself, drawing back whatever springs and circuits that are programmed to move into place when the circle is closed.

He stretches the collar open, turns it, and slowly advances towards my throat with it. I flinch hard, so hard that I bump into the man behind me so he prods me back forward with his sword's hilt. I close my eyes tightly, fearful of what shall happen when the collar is locked once more. There are clicks that go off and the same whirring noises occur from before. The device tightens slightly around my throat, not uncomfortably so, but its weight is now noticeable. And then…

…there is nothing.

I open my eyes cautiously; there's no pain or any sort of sensation coming from the collar save for its presence and weight around my throat. Walker backs away like only someone brimming over with shattered nerves can, and the men holding my shoulders and hair all release me. I look around as I stand, taking in all of their facial expressions as if the answer to this mystery contraption could be found there. I failed to find any.

Barbarro barks suddenly in laughter, a joyous sound as if he is delighted by something. Trofie looks at her husband curiously but smiles anyway, sharing his private joke. "Now for a field test! Release her!" He shouts and the nearby crew react immediately.

What is he doing? The ropes are cut, the chains removed along with the handcuffs. Reflexively I rub my sore wrists and take a moment to run a finger against the collar now affixed to my throat. I begin to back up slowly and the crew even retreat from my area. What does he mean by field test? What is this thing? A tracking device? It has to be a tracking device, what else could it be?

I continue backing up until I feel the solid wooden railing behind me. An electric hope blitzes through me like I've been struck by lightning as I realize this is it, this is my freedom. Oddly procured I will admit, but it is here and staring me in the face nonetheless. Such fools! I will be rid of this human machine once I have gained enough strength to rip it apart. You shan't ever find me again!

The Captain and his wife begin to walk towards me, as if they're egging me on, baiting me to jump overboard. Watch me.

Barbarro grins devilishly, his eyes a gleeful amber as I climb over the side and dive into the water.

Before I have a chance to rejoice at having regained my freedom an absolute agony, the worst I have ever felt begins to overtake my body. Coursing in time with my rapidly beating heart, the pain travels down my neck into my chest and spreads to my limbs. I can feel the life within me leaving, and the feeling is hastened by the fact that I now lack the strength to even breathe. My life's major source of sustenance and energy has me completely enveloped and I am totally unable to take it because of whatever is hurting me.

The collar. It must be the collar!

My fingers scrabble uselessly at the device, losing their power as the seconds tick by. The pain is so awful that I am unable to transform into my true image; my fingers have not developed the usual webbing that comes with being in the water thus inhibiting my ability to swim in these depths. If I don't reach the surface I will surely drown. Is death in these waters better than imprisonment above them? My legs seem to have made the choice for me as all my remaining life-force is concentrated in those two limbs. Arms floating limply at my sides I push for the surface, suffocating as I sluggishly rise.

The last of my strength fades when I break the surface. I float long enough to take in much-needed breaths, but they are too shallow to be of any use. The pain has entirely overtaken me, and I am fading. I am going to die.

Arms encircle and haul me upwards until I am no longer in the ocean. I am numb but aware, the torture has yet to end, but it is diminishing. What was that? What happened to me?

I'm thrown none too gently back over the railing and I just lay there, pooling water on the wood beneath me. Being wet does nothing to reduce the sensations of hurt, and I shudder in time with each wave passing through me. Someone lifts my head and carefully daubs away at the moisture surrounding the collar, both on the outside and on the side touching my neck. As soon as they finish the pain withdraws almost instantaneously. Is that the secret behind my suffering? This device reacts when exposed to water?

I take back what I said before about these humans being foolish and cruel. They are neither of those things, instead they are monsters. Far worse than anything I have ever encountered. With a single piece of their technology, they have ensured that I shall never reenter my beloved water world ever again.

More hands grab me, each pair taking a piece of me until I am lifted into the air and carried off. They place me in the room I was in the first time I regained consciousness; only, this time they have forgone the handcuffs completely.

I am no longer a threat. I am no longer a danger. I am now a mere object. A tool. A slave. They have stripped me of all my remaining nourishment and it is here, on this human vessel, with this human device around my neck, that I shall die.

The horrors of before have ruined me. I shan't stay awake for much longer. Before I slip off into the sanctuary that is a Siren's trance a thought occurs. It is not uncommon for these thoughts to make their appearance in the form of a song, and so has this one.

"My will to quickly end it all/ Set front row in my need to fall …" How will I escape? How will I end this torment? The answer lies with the source of my pain. Salvation could be at hand if I choose it.

Suicide. Liberation. Death.

"Into the ocean, end it all/ Into the ocean, end it all… goodbye…"

Blue October – Into the Ocean