AN: I have decided to update this chapter. My little brother said it's too short. It's still to short, but at least it is updated.
AN(12/26): I added a flashback. Tell me if it is a bit confusing and I'll try to fix it up to be more understandable.
Chapter 1: Sanctuary
Jacob Smith sat in his chair, writhing with discomfort. A man, or teenager rather, wasn't meant to sit still for so long. He diverted his attention from his aching body to fantasizing being a pirate again. His eyes glazed over as he occupied his time with something more entertaining.
"Master Jacob, are you paying attention?" The teacher walked over to Jacob's desk. He leered down at the teenager with eyes full of reproach.
"O' course I am, sir." The last word was pronounced with a bit of humor. "You were informin' the class of the significance o' the West Indies, in which we all live. The Crown is quite favorable t'wards us because we are the most productive o' the colonies. We produce extremely valuable sugar, and therefore profit. Ho'ever, I noticed you forgot to mention the vast amount of slaves we go through to produce said profits." Jacob pronounced the word slave with faint derision. His dark brown eyes still had a glazed look to them, but his voice sounded incredibly interested in the whole subject. Jacob gave the teacher an odd, half smile.
"I was getting to that young lad. Does anyone know why we use slaves?" The teacher looked around, ignoring the hands of all the other young men and sending them an icy stare. "Anyone at all?" The teacher glanced down at Jacob. "How about you? You seem to know an awful lot about everything." The other students snickered.
"I'd love to answer that!" Jacob's voice was full of fake enthusiasm. "We Englishmen, y' see, are incredibly lazy. We happened to come upon a weaker, exploitable civilization in our course o' travels. We took them from their homes and way of life to do our busy work, as it were. We treat these innocent humans, diff'rent from us only 'cause their skin is dark, as we treat dogs." Jacob smiled his odd little smile, anger flashing from his eyes. His hands had been moving about while he spoke in peculiar patterns, often moving somewhat delayed after Jacob made a particular point or just at random times.
The teacher glared menacingly down at Jacob for having such ridiculous ideas. "That's wrong, Jacob. Slaves aren't human. They're heathen, more ape-like than human. They worship heathen gods and it is our right to have dominion over them." The teacher's voice became somewhat excited. "You know the punishment. Come up to the front." The teacher began walking towards the front of the room, knowing the boy would follow him as incidents like this happened at least once a week.
Jacob stood up and followed the teacher to the front. He began mocking the teacher by copying his movements and over-exaggerating the teacher's slight limp. The other students began snickering, but stopped as the teacher turned and shot them a bad look. The pair soon reached the front.
"Off comes your shirt." The teacher waited impatiently as Jacob took his shirt off, grabbing it from his hands. Jacob flexed proudly, showing off well-defined muscles. The teacher then reached over to his trusty switch and started whipping the boy. Jacob's eyes were even more glazed than before. He smiled as the teacher hit harder and harder. The teacher drew blood from the previous week's whipping before he decided the task was complete. After he finished the fourteen stripes, he said with a raspy voice, "Let that be a lesson to you all, boys. You often can't learn something correctly without pain. Class dismissed."
The rest of the class quickly left, sensing the confrontation between teacher and student would continue. "Could you please pass me shirt back to me, sir?" The sentence was spoken with a hint of derision by Jacob.
"That was an interesting stunt you pulled, boy." The teacher handed the shirt back to Jacob. "You'd think you'd learn your lesson."
"Oh, I 'ave. I just happen to 'ave figured out that you enjoy punishing me because my father pays you or happens to 'ave an agreement wi' you. I am an insolent whelp, after all." He smiled his odd smile and pulled the shirt over his bloody back. "I suppose me father will be pleased to see the blood stains on me back. Nice effect, good work, sir." Jacob pointed at his back and the bloody switch the teacher was still holding.
The teacher hastily put the switch down. He coughed and said, "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention any of this to your father." The teacher looked earnestly into Jacob's eyes.
"The conversation or the beating?" Jacob's eyes mocked the teacher, but the voice sounded honest. He had finally come out of the sanctuary his mind offered-to a degree.
"You know what I mean." The teacher laughed nervously, picturing Mr. Smith's anger at him if he knew Jacob had figured his schemes out.
"Right then, I won't. If ye'd please excuse me…" Jacob turned toward the door.
"I have a question for you, Jacob." Jacob pivoted back to face the teacher. "How can you handle the pain?"
Jacob smirked. "Aah. An elf told me the secret once. The mind can endure anything and can overpower the feelings of the body. If it hadn' been for that elf, I'd be in constant agony. You really are a wonderful eunuch when it comes to the switch." Jacob winced. "G'day." Jacob walked away, emulating a particularly drunk man.
The teacher mused over the conversation, puzzled at what Jacob had said. He looked up the word eunuch in a dusty old dictionary and vowed to never trust a compliment from the boy again. He promptly began grading papers.
Jacob smiled to himself as he walked away from the school house. He caught sight of himself in a store window and stopped, admiring his reflection. He looked very odd, indeed. He was the son of a plantation owner, but enjoyed dressing like a pirate, sullying up his new clothes as soon as he got them. His eyes lost more of the glazed look as he examined his reflection. His reflection peered at him with amusement. Jacob loved being odd. It was a good tactic to stay a step ahead of his enemies, or friends for that matter. It kept them distracted long enough for him to cause mischief.
Jacob heard the cry of a young boy. It sounded exactly like he did the first time his father beat him. He looked over at the child. The boy had dark hair and looked similar enough to himself that he couldn't hold back the memories that started washing over him. The boy was reprimanded by his father. It was too much to handle and soon Jacob was lost in painful memories.
Jacob's father, Richard, always seemed to think Jacob wasn't good enough. He began beating Jacob when Jacob turned five and needed to learn how to become a man. Jacob remembered that first beating very well. His father had been increasingly angry with Jacob for playing pirates all the time and was convinced the boy would resort to piracy. Imagery from a suppressed childhood memory swept into Jacob's mind, evading every aspect of it.
Jacob sat in the front room, playing pirates as usual. Rosalyn was busy teaching Jodi how to cook in the kitchen. Jacob looked up as the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He felt an odd sense of dread as he recognized the footsteps to be his father's.
"Hello Jacob." Richard's voice was deep and menacing. He leered down at Jacob with his piercing blue eyes.
"'Lo, father." Jacob smiled up at his father, sensing the tension but not understanding what it was about.
"I see you're playing around like a pirate again." Richard peered at him again, a curious mix of resentment and excitement illuminating his face.
"Yep. I love playin' pirates." Jacob smiled. His five year old mind couldn't process the emotion behind his father's words.
"You know I don't like you to play pirates. You are the son of a rich plantation owner. You will own the plantation when I die. There is no sense in you pretending to be a pirate." Richard roughly grabbed his son, pulling him up. "Maybe I can beat some sense into your thick head."
Jacob cried out as his father pulled him to the room furthest away from the kitchen so Rosalyn could not hear what would ensue. Jacob grabbed wildly at the walls, but only succeeded in pulling off tapestries. His father quickly reached a specific room and unlocked it.
"Father, you're hurting me!" Jacob sobbed as Richard flung him on the wall. He looked up at his father, his liquid brown eyes full of pain.
"You'll never learn your lesson without a bit of pain, Jacob. I want you to be a man when you take over for me as the plantation overseer." Richard's voice was as harsh as nails. He grabbed a whip from the wall.
Jacob whimpered as he saw his father grab the whip. He hadn't ever seen the room he was in before. His father had called it off limits to the twins. Jacob could see why, for this was the room his father whipped misbehaving slaves in. Whips and flogs decorated the wall. Dried blood was pooled on the floor and splattered onto the wall behind Jacob. Jacob winced as he pictured the torture his father's slaves had to endure from him.
"Are you going to be like me, Jacob?" Richard's eyes were gleaming maniacally. Jacob shook his head negative, his stubborn streak taking hold. Richard calmly took Jacob's shirt off, turned him so Jacob's back was facing him, and whipped him hard enough to draw a bit of blood. Jacob screamed in agony.
"Will you stop playing pirates?" Richard whipped the boy around, to observe his face. Tears of agony were welling in the little boy's eyes.
"No." It came out as a mere whimper. Terror flooded Jacob's eyes as his father turned him and whipped him even harder. A scream of excruciating pain escaped Jacob's throat. Richard roughly turned the boy to face him again.
"Will you stop now?" Richard's eyes were full of disgust and glee. Jacob whimpered, slowly shaking his head. "Fine then. You'll receive five more whips today."
Richard turned the boy around, forcing him against the wall. He whipped Jacob with as much force as he used on a full grown slave. Each time the whip came down, Jacob screamed with an inhuman voice. Blood was dripping down his back, giving a curiously disgusting sense of warmth. By the fifth lash of the whip, Jacob was huddled in a fetal position.
Richard threw the sullied whip down after the five lashings. "I will beat you again next week unless you begin to act properly." He whirled around, leaving his son crumpled against the wall, crying in agony. The door slammed shut behind him.
Jacob lay in a fetal position for what seemed like eternity. The flow of blood from his back eventually slowed and finally stopped as the wounds began scabbing over. He was oblivious to anything but the pain. It felt like his back was on fire. His young mind was starting to give in to his father's demands. Most children would have given up on the first whip, but Jacob had a strong stubborn streak, especially in matters concerning his father.
Jacob didn't hear his mother fumbling with the door. Rosalyn had sensed something was amiss when she went to check on Jacob and found him missing. She figured at once that Richard had come home early, due to the fact that Jacob's pirate toys were strewn around the parlor. Jacob had always cleaned up after himself if he moved on to another activity. It took Rosalyn a while to find where Jacob was, and when she did, the door was locked. She had to sneak into Richard's personal effects to get the extra key to unlock the heavy door.
Rosalyn gasped as she finally got the door unlocked. Jacob was lying in a pool of his own dark blood. She almost thought he was dead until she heard the faint whimpering he was giving off.
"Jacob!" She rushed over to him. "Are you alright?" A moan answered her. "Can you stand?" Jacob weakly tried raising his small hand. "I guess not." Rosalyn gently lifted the boy up. Jacob screamed in agony as she tried not touching his bruised, bloody back.
"Father," Jacob's voice was incredibly weak. "…he beat me… I guess 'e don' like pirates." Jacob tried to weakly smile, trying to reassure his mother's worried face that hovered above him.
"I guess not." Rosalyn carefully carried Jacob to the kitchen, trying to touch his back as little as possible. She concocted a story to tell Jodi in case she was still waiting for her in the kitchen. She slowly opened the kitchen door.
"Mum, what happened?" Jodi's face was etched with concern as her mother brought Jacob into the kitchen.
"He, uh, fell onto something very sharp. Can you please go get me some flowers to cheer him up?" Rosalyn was desperate to help her son. Thankfully, Jodi rushed off on the unimportant task, her five year old brain not able to understand when she was being brushed off. Rosalyn breathed a sigh of relief as her daughter ran off.
"What would ye have m' do, m' lady?" The black cook, a slave, looked at Jacob with concern. She enjoyed the young master, as he was always pleasant and grateful towards her.
"Can you please make sure my husband doesn't come in here?" Rosalyn looked into the woman's dark eyes. "He's going to kill whoever did this to Jacob. I don't want him to see Jacob until he's bandaged up." Both women realized that this story was false, as both new that Richard had done it to his son. The cook nodded and stood watch outside the door, realizing Rosalyn needed to be the one to help her son. Rosalyn smiled at her gratefully as she left, still holding Jacob in her arms.
"Mum, I hurt." Jacob's voice was raspy. Rosalyn looked down at her son and carefully laid him stomach down on the countertop. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw him wince.
"I know, me boy." Rosalyn walked over to the various assortments of cupboards in their large kitchen. She opened a rather large one. A smaller, locked cupboard sat inside the larger one. She pulled out a necklace with a small key out of the top of her silken dress and unlocked the smaller cupboard. The cupboard shelves were full of medicinal equipment and glass bottles. She grabbed several large bandages and a bottle and walked back to the countertop were Jacob lay on his stomach.
"Here, Jacob. Drink this. It'll 'elp you 'andle the pain." She handed a bottle to her son. He gratefully grabbed it and started drinking. He spat out about a mouthful as a slightly fiery taste assaulted his mouth. Rosalyn laughed. "Can' ye handle a bit o' rum, me boy?" She took the bottle from him, satisfied the boy had had enough.
Jacob laid his head on the countertop utterly exhausted from the blood loss. He was still crying, though no sound escaped from his mouth. He tried to be brave in front of his beloved mother by choking back the sobs from the pain.
"Oh, me poor sparrow, I should 'a known he would do that." Rosalyn's eyes were full of rage as she thought of her husband. She grabbed the bandages and started twisting them. "Oh, if I had it my way, I'd kill tha' man."
Jacob glanced up at his mother, surprised by the raw hate in her voice. He'd always assumed his mother couldn't hate someone that much.
"Jacob, I need to clean the wounds an' bandage them. It'll be extremely painful. Can ye 'andle it?" Rosalyn's usually calm and cultured voice was full of emotion and the odd accent she had whenever she told Jacob stories. Jacob nodded, eager to appear strong to his mother. Rosalyn reached for a rag and dipped it into the basin of water she and Jodi had been about to use to make dinner. She gently daubed her son's back. A scream of agony escaped his throat and she jumped back in surprise.
"Sparrow, do y' want to hear how to handle pain?" Jacob nodded. "Al' right then. I learned this from someone who knew Calico Jack. Do ye know what Calico would do under pain of torture?" Jacob remained silent, desperately trying not to cry. Rosalyn stroked his cheek and continued. "I'll tell ye then. Calico Jack had a wondrous plan t' never le' his enemies find out important information under torture. He made 'imself a "sanctuary" as it were. Do ye know what a sanctuary is?" Jacob shook his head. Rosalyn smiled, pleased she had somewhat diverted his attention from the pain. "It's a special place where no one can hurt you. Calico made 'is sanctuary by picturing someplace he loved a lot. 'E also had someone 'e loved a lot in it. He'd talk to that someone, concentrating on the place and person until all the pain faded away. Can ye do that, Jacob?" She looked deep into Jacob's brown eyes, trying to send comfort to him. Jacob nodded and closed his eyes.
The silent sobs Jacob had been suppressing soon stopped. Jacob began breathing normally, the winces of pain stopped as well. Rosalyn took the rag and began to gently clean her boy's back. She was surprised at how fast he picked the technique up. He didn't even make a sound when she lifted him and began bandaging him up.
"Thanks mother," Jacob said as soon as Rosalyn was finished. He opened his eyes. They had a glassy look, but he still managed to convey gratefulness in his eyes. Rosalyn was surprised. Calico Jack hadn't been able to do that, according to the stories.
"You're welcome." Rosalyn's voice lost the odd accent as she realized her son was fine and that he would become suspicious.
"I think I'll go play pirates again." Jacob jumped off the counter, stumbling a bit from the small amount of rum he had consumed. Even though it had only been about a mouthful, Jacob was only five and a bit small for his age. Rosalyn cleaned the kitchen and locked the cupboard door, marveling at her son.
Richard had stopped beating the boy weekly once Jacob entered school at the age of nine. Richard now had others do his dirty work for him and paid all of his teachers to beat him, as Jacob never seemed to learn his lesson. Jacob had been glad for the reprieve. His father was a lot stronger than his first teacher, who only beat Jacob for the extra money. Richard had still occasionally beat Jacob until he was thirteen. Now that Jacob was a teenager, his father never beat him; but that was because his new teacher was very good at drawing blood.
Jacob shook his head as he tried to stop remembering the past. The past was past and it was just better to move on and forget. Besides, his mother was waiting for him.
Heldin- Thanks for reviewing me. I was hoping to get at least three good reviews before updating.
JessieRose- Thanks! I appreciate it! I was a bit apprehensive about writing a story.
Merenwen Luinwel- Thank you! I liked your story as well. My elf name is Gilraen Lúinwë. That's similar to your last name.
TheSilverLady- Thanks.
Sida- Thanks a bunch. I also plan to explain some of his exploits mentioned in the movie.
Anonymous(12/20)- Thank you!
ChaosLightning13- Thank you. I'd get it published, but I'm not that good at writing. I base my writing style on the way actors act, if that makes any sense.
FairyObsession-Thanks a bunch, mate. Thank you for the review as well.