CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
~ The definition of insanity ~
Droplets of rain splashed on his face and the dark sky rumbled overhead. A grunt escaped Connor's dried and caked lips. He rubbed his face, his jaw sore and the inside of his body twisted and heavy.
He was left unconscious in a ditch for a few hours. Thankfully he was untouched and left in the exact same location behind the building where he and Meryl had their altercation after not seeing each other for a year.
He groaned and sat up hissing at the soreness of his body. With his shoulder he leaned against the wall of the building, his shaky legs struggling to hoist him up. He managed but paused, blinking a few times, his arm laced around his abs and his body hunched. His head throbbed too.
Despite the bruising, gashed lip and brow there was some mercy and logic in the way she knocked him down. She took him down in a systematic matter tackling points in his body to incapacitate him enough for her to get a head start.
Connor released a sigh. His mind swimming with images of her distraught face and steely ice blue eyes. He noticed her mental instability and could not help himself but clench his fist at the thought of what Alexander did to her.
Suddenly, he remembered how he exposed his feelings to her and revealed how much she meant to him. Thinking back he, he shook his head and blinked with embarrassment. His heart fluttered and he was shocked how blunt he was.
He had been relieved to see her again and seeing her alive and more or less well, filled him with emotional elation that he could not understand.
Connor hobbled back into the street. Even though there was light drizzle and the sky was obscured by dark clouds, he could tell that it was before dusk as the streets were empty and quiet.
He continued to hobble in the direction of a tavern that he spotted up ahead. Without much as a glance to the name and interior and to its gawking drunken regulars, he requested a room and some food to be brought up to him. The concerned tavern owners were willing to find a doctor to check his injuries but he dismissed their kindness with a reassuring response that he just needed some nourishment and sleep.
In the few minutes that he was brought to his room, food and an extra wash basin and cloths were brought to him. When they left Connor, he stripped himself down to his shirt and removed his pants.
Exhaustion hit him and he collapsed onto the bed. Finally, the all welcoming comfort and peace that had escaped him for a year took over and he was asleep for the night.
Several nights later. A click of a tongue followed by the snorting of a horse filled the empty silence of the dark streets of Boston. Steam escaped from the horse's mouth and he gave another snort. The master responded by patting the mane of the stallion. The hooves steadily thumped against the damp but crunchy ground which navigated through the dimly lit streets. It was again one of those frequent cool and foggy nights that signaled the ending of October and the beginning of November.
The individual atop the horse exhaled with affirmation, as his vibrant but watchful green eyes darted and scanned the area and streets in front of him. His forehead and eyebrows furrowed with a sternness that added more age to his usual youthful and charming face. A loose dark curl fell down his face and with the calmness and assurance of competent rider, he let go of the reigns and removed his three cornered hat and placed it in front of him while he pulled off his gloves and readjusted his disheveled low pony tail. Strands of silver hairs peeked through his dark auburn hair. He had picked up a new habit of keeping his lips pressed together, creating a noticeable tension in his jaw.
When he finished readjusting his hair and placed his hat on his head, something changed in his demeanor. Something in his mind shifted his mood. His steely green eyes were suddenly vulnerable and raw.
"Meryl…" he murmured softly as he kept his eyes lowered in fear that someone would see him in his current state.
A sudden clatter, startled his horse to such a degree that it raised itself on its hind legs unleashing a frightful neigh, catapulting Alexander off the saddle and onto the ground while the horse raced off in a frenzy.
"William!" yelled Alexander and whistled after him but the horse was already too far away.
Alexander got up cursing under his breath. He straightened himself out, dusting away the dirt that caked his coat and adjusting his under coat and hat.
He stood there for a moment, realizing the overwhelming silence and darkness.
Another clatter erupted from a backstreet just a block down from where he stood. His interests were piqued but so was his alertness. He patted down his coat and realized with dismay that his pistol was in the satchel attached to his saddle. However, luckily, he carried a concealed knife in his boot.
He took a steadying breath, knowing the risks of entering a backstreet in this kind of night. He took determined strides and made a left into a narrow street that could fit two people, shoulder by shoulder.
When he stood at the entrance of the dark backstreet, he felt apprehension and doom looming ahead and his instincts told him to run away and search for his horse instead, but he ignored the pleas of reason and walked into the murky dark backstreet.
A sharp and thunderous kick from behind threw him face down to the ground. He turned around to see what attacked him but the dark figure hit him square in the face with the butt of his pistol knocking Alexander immediately unconscious.
"Suppose is 'im?" mumbled the man with a gruff voice.
Three men dressed in ragged civilian clothes raised a lantern over Alexander's unconscious body.
"He is you dolt!" remarked the frenzied other man who whacked the other one at the back of his head. "No one rides a Spanish black stallion in this colony and look - he wears the Leighton crest on his ring finger! He is bloody Alexander Leighton, the magistrate!"
The other man who remained silent the entire time and who had ambushed Alexander and knocked him unconscious spoke up.
"It is him, all right."
"See! Even George agrees!" shrieked the frenzied one with delight.
However, the wiser of the three, which was George stared at Alexander's body for a moment and the loud one of the three noticed it when he wasn't helping them with lifting the body.
"Come on give us a hand, George!"
George looked at Alexander and then to the loud twitchy one.
"Do you realize how serious this is?"
"Wot you mean?"
"He is a Leighton, for God's sake!" George's hesitation but also anxious eyes broke through his calm demeanor.
"And?"
"He is worth more than our own pitiful lives by hundred fold!"
"Get on with it, George!" snapped the loud one in a frantic manner.
"As soon as he goes missing, His Majesty's men, will scour the town to find him!"
"Oh shut it, George! If we don't hurry we can't collect our handsome reward! Now get over here and help us!"
George's hesitation and concern was still visible but like his companions he was desperate for money, so without a word he immediately assisted his buddies.
The men's silent grunts as they carried the body in the dimly lit backstreets caught an unsuspecting individual's attention.
Meryl threw her body back against the wall when she heard some movement approaching her in the network of backstreets.
She was ready to fight them but she decided against it when she heard the hushed whispers and an all too familiar name spoken between the men.
"Put yer back into it, George! We have to bring him to the Commodore tonight before the ship sets off." The frantic one cursed.
"Why does Commodore Bradley want Alexander Leighton, doesn't he have enough money already?" the airhead of a brute blabbered earning a loud smack from the frenzied guy.
"I can't believe how stupid you are!" hissed the frenzied guy with impatience and exasperation. "Why not scream it from the top of a fort so the whole bloody town can hear you! Now, keep yer mouth shut!"
Meryl slid down the wall so that she hid behind some crates. Her eyes darted about, her mind and heart racing at what she heard.
These men moved closer and closer. She could tackle them, take them out and save Alexander. However, as these men's footsteps grew closer and ultimately passed her, she found herself very unwilling to intervene.
A part of her staunchly believed he deserved every bit of hell, but another part of her felt uneasy about the whole thing.
She was aware of the dealings between Alexander and the Commodore when she snooped around in Alexander's business ledger. The Commodore kept his things locked, so she never had an idea how deep their dealings were.
Yet, why would the Commodore kidnap Alexander, especially a relatively well established aristocrat who happens to descend from the illustrious Leighton line?
Either the Commodore was desperate or he was scheming something. Meryl thought the latter.
Meryl faced such an internal debate with herself, going back and forth between her justification for letting him deal with his own shit versus her strong sense of justice. She did not like any of this, this whole kidnapping nonsense and what it could entail. Also it was an odd coincidence that she happened to run into this. All of this seemed suspicious, maybe she was overthinking it.
"That fucker deserved whatever shit storm he created." She whispered under her breath.
However, in the pit of her resentment she felt a strong instinctual impulse and Alexander' face flashed in front of her eyes. She groaned with frustration and leaped to her feet and broke into a dash.
"Fuck!"
The wood creaked and a gentle swaying motion filled Alexander's semi-consciousness. A stark scent of sweet liquor interspersed with cured meats, salty water and wet earthy wood floated in the muggy air.
A sharp clatter rumbled above that startled Alexander awake. He bolted up, sitting on a pile of straw surrounded by iron grates.
He was in the prison cell of a ship. There was another vacant brig across of his, separated by a narrow walking space that on his left led to the cargo area and to the right led to some wooden steps up to the sleeping/eating quarters of the sailors and eventually up to the deck above.
From Alexander's observation, it was a mid-sized ship, perhaps a merchant ship.
He shivered, it was cold. He looked down on himself and saw that he was stripped down to his white linen shirt and dark breeches and boots.
His eyes widened and he fumbled for his boots, desperately searching for his concealed knife. He groaned. It was gone.
"Ah you've awaken, Master Leighton."
A nasally voice chuckled as he began to descend the steps. A man dressed in the full royal British navy regalia appeared and Alexander's face froze with disbelief.
"Commodore Hadley? What is the meaning of this?" Alexander spluttered and shook the grates of the cell. "Let me out this instant!"
The Commodore strutted over, his shiny new his metals and lapels gleaming with pride. He approached the grates, smiling smugly at the capture.
"It is time to collect, Master Leighton. You have evaded me long enough."
Alexander kept a civil but curt face. The Commodore continued displaying the triumphant smirk.
"Imprisoning me is the most inefficient approach to solving this matter, Commodore. By keeping me on this ship and at sea, it will not hasten the return of your sum!" barked Alexander as he rattled the grates of the cell.
The Commodore chuckled.
"Oh we are not too far off shore, Master Leighton, in fact I have row boats at my disposal to collect the payment and interest that you owe me."
Alexander's jaw tightened and his green steely eyes returned with a fiery defiance that made the Commodore chortle.
"You do realize that it is because of my investment that your tea trade took off the ground."
"I did not expect you to demand your share in such a brutish and uncivilized manner – it is not my fault that the colonists' tastes in tea have fouled due the latest squabbles!"
"Squabbles? Do I detect treason? Are you against His Majesty's involvement in the colonies, Master Leighton?"
Alexander clenched his teeth, keeping his composure and maintaining his grave eyes on the Commodore
"As a tradesman and business partner, I am merely observing that souring the relations between the colonists and His Majesty's Kingdom has proven detrimental to the economy of all trades and businesses concerned."
"Ha! Always as elusive with your political affiliations, Master Leighton." The Commodore remarked. "My friend, your continued neutrality and indecision will cost you dearly, one day you will have to choose and I believe it will be sooner than you know it."
"When that time comes, Commodore, I will choose, but at present I will keep politics out of my trade."
The Commodore chuckled once more, scrutinizing his expression and body language.
"A business and tradesman through and through, how admirable… yet it must be quite upsetting for your father and his legacy."
Alexander did not respond but his eyes kept the same defiant glare.
"You cannot keep me in here, Hadley." Alexander declared.
"Or what? You will send the British Armada? Or call your dear papa to rescue you? I AM THE BRITISH ARMADA!" roared the Commodore with resolution and then laughed.
Alexander tightened his lips. The Commodore was in front of the grates gloating into his eyes.
"It is clear that your father wants nothing more to do with a failure of a son! You've become an enemy to your own society both in the colonies and in Britain, you have no status and a tainted reputation – who in their right mind would get their hands dirty to help you?"
Alexander kept his composure, but the despair and anger had begun to gnaw at him from the inside.
The Commodore smirked some more when he saw Alexander's body shivering from the cold and as he was about to turn away Alexander spoke up.
"The rumors are true?" remarked Alexander.
"What rumors?" The Commodore noted with disinterest.
"That you bought your title and engaged in illegal activities?"
He had one foot resting on the step before he turned around and merely glowered at him
"I suppose those rumors stem from your new circle of friends, the lowlife in the harbor?"
"At least these lowlifes lead an honest and hard working life!" snapped Alexander. "And they don't understand the concept of bought allegiance!"
The Commodore clenched his jaw but then he chuckled.
"My dear friend, at least I am not a ruined and nameless man on a ship to Barbados." He stated with a toothy smirk. "To prove you that I am still a gentleman, I will accompany you on your first leg of the journey to Charleston and generously return your overcoat and some refreshments. Maybe you will have a change of heart once we dock in Charleston for the ship's resupply."
The Commodore cackled and walked up the stairs and disappeared from Alexander's sight.
The next day on the Commodore's ship the Delilah, loud commotion and shouts erupted accompanied by the scampering of footsteps.
"Fuck you, cunts!" roared Meryl as her body was dragged from behind some cargo by two rough sailors.
"Commodore!" shouted another ship mate who ran ahead and sounded the alarm. "We have a stowaway!"
Within a few minutes, the Commodore descended below deck and when he encountered the unexpected stowaway his expression was aflame with triumph which spread like a disease around his body giving him the widest smirk that was unnerving to Meryl.
"Miss Briar, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you back to me?"
She kept her mouth shut while her eyes glared at him.
The Commodore chuckled but there was relief mixed with a maliciousness in his eyes that made Meryl's body quiver.
"Of all the people, you must be the one to tip the scales in my favor! Oh what good fortune!"
Meryl's face scrunched up in confusion.
"Bring her down to the brig boys!" he ordered with a sadistic grin tugging at his lips.
The men cackled and dragged her kicking and struggling body further down into the cells. Alexander stared, watching the commotion unfold in front of him. The cell across of his was thrown open and the unfortunate struggling individual clad in civilian clothes with his unusually high pitched voice was thrown into the cell. Alexander couldn't see the individual as the burly sailors blocked his view.
"You fuckers will die when I get my hands on you!" the captive growled, which made Alexander's heart drop when he recognized the timber of that voice.
"Shut your trap, you hussy!" One of the sailors yelled and delivered a kick to the individual. "That's what you get for going behind the Commodore!"
The individual convulsed and gagged at the kick, but a defiant and struggling chuckle came out instead.
"Jerry! Stop!" another shipmate hastily jumped in to stop the fuming ship mate from thrashing her.
"I've waited for so long to beat some sense into that hussy!" the hot tempered sailor growled, but the other calmer ship mate with a steady gaze just patted his shoulder and nodded his head in the direction to exit the cell.
Meryl pulled herself up, using the wall and chuckled some more.
"Nothing has changed you're still a bitch, Jerry."
A roar escaped from Jerry and he rushed back into the cell, grabbed Meryl by the collar and punched her in the face. He was immediately tackled and yanked out of the cell. The cell was shut tight quickly, as the ship mates dragged the raging Jerry up the stairs and out of sight.
The Commodore heard the chaos and went down to the brigs, ignoring Alexander and standing in front of the other cell.
"You are not anymore under my protection, Miss Briar. I advise you to be mindful not only of your choice of words but your actions."
Meryl stood up behind the grates, the anger and defiance still burning in her grey eyes. The Commodore offered her a smug smile that was between being impressed by her tenacity but also displaying triumph.
"May I inquire what has driven you to hide on my ship?"
She merely glared at him without flinching and without scruple in her features.
"How delightful!" the Commodore broke out in laughter and he spun his head back to Alexander. "Now I understand why you were smitten with her! She is a feisty one!"
The moment Alexander and Meryl made eye contact, they both were stunned into silence. The color flushed out of Meryl's face.
"Miss Briar, you made this too easy for me! I will relish squeezing every bit of payment out of your dear husband!" his laugh followed him as he walked back up the stairs, leaving the former couple in a dumbfounded state.
Remorseful green eyes that were tinged with disbelief and relief encountered the shocked grey eyes. The longer they stared the more her weak and vulnerable self, threatened to resurface. When Meryl set out to save Alexander she underestimated her emotional response to him. Her heart almost imploded with a mix of fear yet seething anger took over when she remembered how he had treated her.
"You! I was hoping never to see your scum face again." She growled, her eyes burning with a radiating hatred that left Alexander shuddering.
"Meryl…" he barely uttered in shock, his eyes scouring her swelling cheek and the blood coating the corner of her lip.
She spat blood on the floor and returned her icy glare at him.
"So, you too are the Commodore's bitch – how ironic." She chortled with a smug satisfaction and plopped down on the pile of straw. "The man who spoke about independence and entrepreneurship is now caught in his own trappings."
"What happened…" Alexander still couldn't finish his sentence.
She scanned him from head to toe, Alexander looked gaunt and bewildered. The hollow of his cheeks showed more and the darkness under his eyes were more noticeable than before, but more importantly he looked like a man on edge. His green eyes for the first time reflected what he felt, instead of being shrouded in mystery concealing his intent. He was vulnerable and completely disarmed. She caught him off guard.
He never expected her to show up in this situation. She had cut her blond locks into a boyish hair cut that defined her sharp cheek bones and stinging grey eyes. She had gained more bulk to her frame. Her arms, legs and torso had gained a thickness and sturdiness that finally matched her overall tenacious and fierce character. She looked like a different person altogether, more masculine for sure, but this time, she appeared stronger and almost deadly to his eyes. For the first time, he felt intimidated by her. Her cold calculating eyes, had sent an arctic chill through his bones and weakened his knees.
She continued her smug smile of satisfaction when she saw the fear manifest more in his features and she felt the intoxicating power coursing through her body.
"I cut my hair short to blend in with the boys and since I am here I might as well tell you what I've been up to. So, yes, I did work for the Commodore, in fact I was the one that was stealing from the custom coffers and unfortunately inadvertently helped secure his place in the navy." She declared without shame or hesitation, observing the despair paralyze his limbs.
"What?!" Alexander spluttered, his legs stumbled and he grasped the grate of the brig to steady himself.
"You heard me right."
"How…?"
"Revenge, Alex."
"Revenge?"
"Should I jog your memory?" she undid the binding around her forearm and rolled up her sleeve, revealing the nasty scar.
His pained and wide eyes fell on her scar and then they met her icy eyes.
"Never again will I be humiliated and degraded by a man. You are as dead as the Commodore."
Cold sweat glistened at his forehead. His fists were clenched revealing the white of his knuckles.
"What are you…?" his weak and shaky voice barely carried over to her before her strong voice retaliated back at him.
"That doesn't matter anymore, what matters is that I will take both you and the Commodore to Hell with me."
In the tense silence, Alexander lowered his eyes, letting the burning shame overcome him but he quickly recovered he looked back at her, the continued remorse visible in his vibrating eyes.
"Meryl…" his voice quivered and his green eyes were lined with tears. "I know… there is nothing in the world, not even my apologies - that can undo what I have done to you…"
"You are damn fucking right." She snarled under her breath.
"Meryl." His voice had gained a little more traction now, a firmness that despite what she went through caught her full attention.
She looked up and found him holding the grate tightly. It was just them at the bottom of the ship where natural light poured in only very fleetingly and interchangeably bathed them in a murky shadow. His deep set and determined green eyes sliced through the shadow.
In her one year absence, Alexander had gained a more rugged look to his appearance that almost brought him to the level of the commoners or civilians. This transformation turned him strangely more human. Before he hid behind the polished exterior of decorum, nice clothes and formalities that Meryl came to hate so much, especially among his peers. Everyone was being polite for the sake of being polite. His auburn locks that were always groomed and tamed into a pony tail were currently loose, displaying the natural curls of his coarse shoulder length hair. Despite his current predicament, physically he looked calm and he carried that quiet confidence. It was difficult to take one's eyes away from him, he still maintained a magnetism that drew the attention of anybody in a room. Nevertheless, he now had nowhere to hide and his green eyes betrayed his inner emotions.
"Meryl… From the depth of this worthless and tainted soul" he declared, his hand resting on his chest with his fingers almost digging through the layers of his clothes to his heart as his glimmering eyes blazed through her. "I - I know I was a terrible husband, I was the worst! I know I can redeem myself in your eyes for my unforgiveable actions and pain I caused you!"
He took a deep shuddering breath, lowering his eyes momentarily to steady himself, then he raised his eyes that punctured hers with the intensity of his emotions.
"If I had cherished you…If, if I had not been weak…" he pursued his lips, attempting to hold back the barrage of emotions but when he exhaled a tormented and remorseful voice poured out of his mouth. "If I cared enough as a husband and father I would never have allowed any of this to happen! We would have been happily married and with a child!"
Unconsciously tears sprouted from Meryl's eyes. Alexander's eyes widened when he saw her response and she immediately turned her back on him. Silent tears streaming down her face.
"Meryl, Meryl, please." He pleaded, his voice cracking from the despair.
She dared not react to him. She felt him straining his face between the bars.
"It is my fault that we lost our child."
"Alex-
-If I had-
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" she bellowed in berserk anger, grabbing the nearest object which was a rickety stool and shattering it against the iron grates of the cell to silence him. "Fuck you! Die you fucking liar, cheater and scum!"
Her resentful grey eyes bathed in tears, her body shook and she gripped the bars tightly.
"I hate you…I loathe every single thing about you!" she snarled through clenched teeth, glaring into Alexander's pale face. "Nothing would give me more satisfaction than garroting you and watching the life disappear from your already dead eyes!"
Alexander stared aback at her in shock.
She turned around and lay down on the pile of hay, lying on her sides with the back facing him. More silent tears fell from her wide berserk grey eyes that stared through the ship's hull wall.
The crashing of the waves battering the cliffs accompanied the rhythmic chopping and the dull thud of wood falling to the ground.
One last strike and the last piece of log was cut for the oncoming weeks. A light sheen of sweat covered Connor's temples and he wiped it away with the back of his fingerless gloves. He exhaled with content as he surveyed with pride the neatly lined pile of wood that he had chopped over the course of a few hours. There was always something satisfying with brute labor and it left him rejuvenated. It was a weird favorite past time of his, it was straightforward and uncomplicated and easy to accomplish. It cleared the fog in his mind and allowed him to focus.
It's been a week since his return to the Davenport manor and his encounter with Meryl. He had been searching for her and certainly hadn't given up on her yet, but before he could set off his search a worrisome letter reached him regarding Achilles' health. Connor was aware of Achilles' age but his past aliments pertaining to his leg injury was giving him more trouble than usual. Ingrid, Marie and Hanna requested his immediate return, especially with some heavy lifting and other chores, such as chopping wood and even carrying Achilles from room to room. Achilles hated the attention, but he was grateful despite his snarky remarks that were triggered more from the pain than himself.
"Connor!"
Connor held onto the ax and a sailor from Faulkner's crew ran up to him from the inlet below.
"An urgent message, Connor!"
"By whom?" his asked in a sharp voice.
"An Alexander Leighton, sir." The sailor panted as he handed him the letter.
Connor's eyes widened and he grabbed the letter and tore it open.
"We got this a week ago."
"A week ago?" exclaimed Connor, "Why this late?"
The sailor shivered slightly at the abrasive tone of Connor.
"We were doing our usual deliveries and returning from Charleston. A merchant ship hailed us and we did some business, we made a profit selling most of our looted items, rifles, pistols and ammunition. Then in that exchange a squirrely shipmate slipped a letter to one of our mates begging for discretion."
Connor's body stiffened and his eyes narrowed, his mind racing.
"Merchant ship you said?"
The sailor snorted.
"They claim they was a merchant ship, but in mine eyes they were commandeered by the British."
"How?"
"I've been a sailor long enough to notice that the entire ship was off, the ship mates looked like a squeamish bunch heading for the shooting squad. The captain was sweatin' and lookin' ill – tis definitely a ship commandeered by the British."
Connor unfolded the letter and saw a hastily scribbled note.
Connor,
If this letter ever reaches you, Meryl and I have been imprisoned by the Commodore Hadley on board of a merchant ship named "Delilah" en route to for Charleston and later to Barbados. We are in dire need of your assistance. God knows what more they will do to Meryl. Please, for the love of God rescue Meryl, I do not know how long she can endure…
Yours etc,
Alexander Leighton
Connor's body went rigid and his hands crushed the letter in his hands.
"Take me to Charleston AT ONCE!" he almost yelled at the sailor and he stormed off in the direction of the inlet down below.
Red hot anger burned through his veins, powering his muscles and increasing his speed. The sailor behind him could not keep up with him.
When Connor reached the docks, captain Faulkner happened to be standing at the bottom of the loading ramp.
"Faulkner!" shouted Connor which roused the attention of the captain and all ship crew.
"Bring me to Charleston immediately!"
"Connor – what?"
Connor stood in front of Faulkner, huffing deeply his body appearing larger and ready to explode with vengeance.
"That merchant ship, the Delilah, we need to track her down!"
"What for?" Faulkner stammered as he followed Connor's storming figure up the ramp.
Connor almost shoved the letter in Faulkner's chest. He unfurled the letter, his baffled eyes went over it and immediately his eyes grew with concern. He raised his voice.
"Get up ye maggots! Man the ship! We are heading to Charleston immediately!" he shouted the orders and all ship mates dropped whatever they were doing and ran up the ramp.
Shouts and cheers followed as the ship mates scrambled across the deck, undoing the heavy ropes at the dock and lastly pulling up the ramp.
Within a few minutes the ship eased out of the inlet. A favorable cool southern wind blew the sails, pushing the ship in the southern direction towards Charleston.
Connor stood at the wheel with one hand gripping it tightly while his eyes were dead set on the horizon in front of him.
"You call that a hit." Meryl breathed with a chuckle and another grunt exploded from her mouth as another fist hit her in the abdomen.
She hacked and coughed, inhaling sharply as her body tried to deliver oxygen to the rest of her body while desperately trying to keep herself from passing out. She barely kept on her toes as her body dangled from her chained shackled hands that were cuffed above her head.
She probably looked like a lynched piece of meat that dangled from a hook in a butcher's refrigerator. Bleeding lacerations covered her arms and legs like stripes of a tiger. Her clothes had begun to tear especially at her back as more crisscross lacerations decorated her once smooth pale back. They especially enjoyed whipping her tattooed areas, possibly desecrating the lovely designs that held enormous value to her. She could picture the welts and scars forming across these tattoos, looking like a child had decided to cross out everything with a thick sharp marker.
Despite her history with the Commodore and her implications in his rise to power, they were soft with her. Yes, they suspended her from her wrists, whipped her and punched her around a little bit, but was that torture? Not to her mind or vivid imagination. They could have sliced her open a little, chopped off her fingers or toes and brutally raped her, but they didn't do that which was weird and unusual but she was beyond thankful. However, this meant that the Commodore had a plan, possibly to psychologically torture Alexander and squeeze out his debt.
And by God, his plan was brilliant! For weeks, they would literally drag her semi-unconscious bruised and battered body into her own cell and Alexander stomped about like a territorial and protective Stallion, helplessly hissing and cursing in rage at the men who were hurting his mate.
That's how it went. The ship crew and the Commodore picked up a specific routine, where they beat her up and gave her a day or two rest but fed her half a sailor's ration to keep her on edge. A perfect balance between retaining her sanity and awareness but also weak enough that she couldn't flee. Alexander was well taken care off with a proper course meal with constant supervision. Of course, he began to eat less and less and could not find the appetite to eat more while he sat across of Meryl's cell where she was kept on a leash like a starving and almost rabid dog. In the weeks that they were in the same room and in separate cells, she made sure to remind him not to give in whenever she was picked up kicking and screaming then returned as a limp and unconscious body.
Meryl knew he wasn't going to last. It was the first time where his true self was wrenched out of him, in his rawest moments in his cell she saw how much she mattered to him and how much he was emotionally capable to respond in distress and desperation. The helplessness drove him insane and wore him down.
The injuries Meryl sustained were never life threatening, they meticulously beat her up to a point that she looked terrible and could barely utter a word and move her body. This was the usual run down.
The men had left the cargo/cell area and barricaded the top of the stairs. Alexander ran to the cell door and rattled it hard.
"Meryl! Meryl! Oh my God! Meryl!" he yelled in despair.
Meryl heard his terrified voice in intervals ringing loudly in the foggy darkness of unconsciousness. She lay on her sides, her eyes barely able to keep themselves open from the swelling and exhaustion.
His animated, scared and anguished face called for her as he in vain and with ferocity he rattled the cell door and its grate.
"Oh God Meryl! Please! Anyone, please! She will die if no one tends to her! Please!" he begged and pleaded in desperation, shouting for help and mercy but no one came.
He kept rattling the door, shaking the grate, throwing things at the door and he struggled and struggled until his hands began to bleed. Meryl's consciousness and sight swam between a foggy mist and sudden flashes of bright sunlight streaming in through cracks in the ship.
He dropped to his knees, panting, grasping the grate with all his might, green eyes swimming in angry helplessness as he stared at Meryl's unmoving body.
In bursts of consciousness and pain, Meryl heard him and she pushed and pushed her body to respond to reassure him that she was okay. All this time her back was facing him and when she began to stir his panting and hoarse breathing calmed down a little and immediate concern strained his voice.
"Meryl! Oh God!" he whispered with a mix of deep relief and unabated anxiety. "My love, stay strong! I will get us out of here! By God, they will pay!"
He growled his last sentence. She heard the resentment and hate add a visceral quality to his voice which made her shudder. Despite hating his guts and internally delighting how much this was driving him crazy, she had to admit that maybe this was a little bit cruel, it did not suit him to sound like that, at least the vengeful side of his.
With a grunt and hiss she tossed her body so that he could see with more horror her bruised and bleeding face which been rendered almost unrecognizable.
Alexander buckled in shock.
In between conscious and unconsciousness, Meryl struggled and struggled to wake and stir. Her body screamed with anguish and resistance towards the slightest movement, but she gritted her teeth and with another grunt she stretched out her hand grasping an uneven part of the floor board and inched closer towards the grate.
"Meryl…" Alexander breathed erratically. "Stop moving!"
She mustered a grin that looked more like a painful grimace with her swollen bleeding lips and swollen semi shut eyes.
"Shut…the fk uhhhp." She gargled, hoisting herself up in a sitting position but when she did she growled loudly with clenched teeth holding back from yelling in pain.
All this time Alexander sat there, perplexed and shell shocked by what he saw.
" 'm fffinnghh, stp… werryinghhh." She grunted and growled, trying her hardest through the waves of pain to reassure Alexander that she was fine just inconvenienced by her bodily pains but that mentally she was still functioning.
Alexander continued to stare at her, the alarming concern and torment still visible in his face, but slowly there was relief and hope flickering through the hurricane of emotions in his vibrant tear laced green eyes. He was startled of her resilience and he made it blatantly clear when he stammered:
"How…?!"
Meryl grasped both grates finally, clenched them hard and released a guttural growl while again trying her hardest not to scream in pain.
" 'm toffffer thhan yu thhhnk."
She knew her speech sounded absolutely gibberish but the more she kept her jaw clenched the less painful it was to speak and she really didn't want to scream in pain.
" 'm ffffine…FUCK! THIS PAIN!... Let me sllleep it 'ffff."
All strength left her body and she collapsed into unconsciousness while Alexander's calls for her grew fainter and fainter as seconds passed.
Today, they dragged her bleeding lacerated and almost minced body down the stairs and into the refrigerator.
Alexander leaped to the door of his cell gripping the grates, his wide volatile green eyes darting between the jeering and smug sailors that were looking down to Meryl's injured body.
A racking and hacking cough exploded from Meryl's mouth after she was kicked in the abdomen.
"STOP!" Alexander bellowed with all his might, rattling the cell door with a possessed vengeance. "If you lay another finger on her, I will ensure that each one of you hangs from the gallows!"
One of the smug sailors jeers and strides out of the cell to stand in front of Alexander's.
"Ohhh, look how crazy 'is eyes 'ave gone." He sneered, earning the jeers of his mates. "'ow does it feel to 'ave a taste of yer own medicine, aristocrat scum."
A sudden calmness went through Alexander's body where he lowered his gaze so that his hair obscured his eyes.
Then he snapped his head up, a demented look coupled by a sadistic smile chilled the entire room. Alexander grabbed the sailor by the collar, slamming the sailors face into the grate making his nose explode with blood. Then he flipped this disoriented sailor so that he faced his ship mates, Alexander threw a threaded blanket around his neck and pulled tight so that the sailor's beg came out as croaks.
Alexander flipped himself around so that he held the ends of the threaded blankets in either fist and yanked hard using his weight.
The sailor croaked and gasped, struggling and hoarsely yelping, frantically fumbling for the blanket around his throat.
Alexander growled and then roared as he yanked hard enough until a sickening snap even though the sailor had stopped breathing and struggling.
Before he knew it, he was suddenly tackled and punched in the gut and restrained by more reinforcement.
Meryl had watched this unfold in front of her in stunned and horrified silence.
"What in the world happened!" yelled the Commodore's voice from on top of the stairs and he descended the stairs.
His alarmed eyes surveyed the scene in front of him, the bruised and snapped neck of the dead sailor in front of the cell. His expression changed when he followed the trail of the threaded blanket, a smug smile of satisfaction graced his face.
He strode over to the Alexander's open cell, the shipmates roughly dragged him out and made him face him.
"My word, Master Leighton, a killer now. A lovely new addition to your repertoires and your family's untainted legacy." He remarked with derision. "Although I do admit, it is my fault I might have squeezed you too much. I suppose you are prepared to strike a deal, are you not?"
Alexander raised his searing glare towards the Commodore, it took him a monumental effort not to curse the Commodore, so with an unusually steady and weighted voice he responded to the Commodore.
"Until I witness Meryl fed, wounds tended and clothed – I will not come in agreement to your terms."
The Commodore scanned him intently.
"May I remind you, Master Leighton that you are in a most disadvantageous position to make demands."
"I am aware, Commodore." He replied with that unnerving steadiness and hint of derision towards the title of the Commodore while Meryl twitched nervously at Alexander's eerily calm appearance. "I trust that you will honor these demands for an advantageous outcome."
The Commodore looked at Alexander, scrutinizing him and his speech careful.
"I will agree to your conditions if I get Miss Briar's assurance that she will comply and be on her best behavior."
All heads spun to Meryl's direction, she looked to the Commodore then to Alexander's steady gaze and grudgingly without a word nodded.
"Men! Bring her to my quarters and have the physician come!" The Commodore ordered in an upbeat tone. "And have the cook bring his best dishes – this calls for festivities!"
A round of cheers broke out. Meryl and Alexander were roughly shoved up the stairs and ushered to the Commodore's quarter.
Meryl had no idea what to expect, but she caught a glimpse of Alexander's knowing smirk. A mix of relief and anticipation washed over her, empowering her steps while keeping her vigilance on alert.
This won't end well.