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Chapter Ten: Home

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I didn't know where I was going, but I could have cared less. All I wanted was to get away from the lying fools. All I wanted to was for people to tell me the truth, but no one even bothered to. Did Roland really speak from the heart? Or was it because he was under pressure? I didn't know, and I didn't want to know. What he said still hurt me like a thousand knives. And if he said that about me, did Mum and Dad feel the same way too? Were they just being nice to me because I was a pitiable girl?

"Shut up, Astrid," I said to myself as I ran. "You're gone now and they will never go after you."

I could hear the soothing splash of the waves on the beach now, telling me that I was not far away from the docks. The night was late. I couldn't even see the moon and there were very few people still roaming about the area. I crossed a small stone bridge and was about to keep on going when I decided to turn back. I strayed away from the road and walked alongside the stones of the bridge until I reached the open arch beneath it, where an estuary led into the ocean. There was a wide strip of white sand on both sides under the bridge, and I plopped myself on it. I leaned my back against the stone bridge, sheltered myself underneath it, hugging my knees.

"I miss you, Daddy," I cried into my arms. "I miss you, Jack. I want to be back on the Pearl. I'm sorry I was bad. I'm sorry, but I want to go back. I want to count your treasure with you again. I want to stand right beside you as you steer the ship. I want to go back, Daddy. I want to go back. I'm sorry I was bad. I'll never be bad again. Just come back, Daddy. Come back."

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I woke up hungry, tired, and thirsty. The sky was dim and cloudy and the sound of the sea came ever clearer. A storm was coming. I just knew it. My eyes were crusty from my tearful night, and I rubbed vigorously at them to relax my tired eyes.

Slowly, I wobbled onto my feet and left my spot beneath the stone bridge to return to society. The air felt damp and heavy. It wouldn't be long before the storm struck. I was not planning to go back to Elizabeth. I didn't know what to do at all. I should have known that a five year old (who was almost six), would never be able to survive alone on the streets.

I felt extremely warm as I walked around the busy town. My brown curls were matted to my forehead from my sweat, and the coarse fabric of the dress irritated my skin. My wrists often had random pangs, as did my knees, but they ended almost as quickly as they had begun. My head felt heavy and I became tired easily. I leaned against the side of the bakery and looked out into the emptying streets. People were leaving the shops in a hurry, many of them with bundles of supplies and other goods. I wondered why they did so. Something wet landed on the backside of my hand, and I looked up to the gray sky. It was raining.

I decided to find some shelter from the rain, otherwise I would get ill, but my feet wouldn't move for me. They were nailed to the muddy ground. Gathering up all my strength, I lifted my foot, which, for some reason, seemed to take all my energy out of me. I never took a step because my step was actually a trip. I slid on the slimy mud I stood on and fell flat on my face. I tasted the thick, oozy mud in my mouth and felt like vomiting. But I didn't have the strength to do that either.

The rain continued to pour down harder, and the world was blurred around me. Health and strength had abandoned me, and I lay motionless on the muddy earth. The rain felt icy to the touch, and I was drowning in it. Slowly. Very slowly.

My head throbbed from my fall, thumping in sync with my heart. But slowly the aching thumps ceased, but I didn't realize that they only ceased as my eyes closed. I fell into unconsciousness, the last thing I heard being a loud clap of thunder, and a man's cry fading within it.

I probably would have never woken up if hadn't heard a familiar sound. It was one I knew all too well, for I made the sound myself when I was depressed or angry. It was the sound of someone crying. Carefully, I opened an eye slightly to get a peek around me. My eyes were met with darkness, but a soft, warm glow glimmered far to my right. A dying candle stood alone on my nightstand, and then I realized that I was in my own room.

Everything became familiar to me again. The soft sheets beneath my body were the ones I had slept in just the other night. The large, cold pillow supporting my head was the same one I slept on a day ago. I was safe in my home.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I realized who was crying. It was a woman sitting in a chair beside my bed. At first I thought she was a ghost, for her pale nightgown stuck out in the dark. Her thin, delicate hands covered her face, and her unkempt blonde curls swayed on her shoulders. A young man sat beside her, his arm gently around her slumped shoulders. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. He was in deep thought. Neither of them noticed I was watching them.

The woman repeated one thing through her sobs, which I was able to decipher. She only said, "I promised Jack I would take care of her, Will! I told him I would love her as if she were my own!" The young man would always reply softly, "You did nothing wrong, Elizabeth. It's not your fault. Everything will be fine."

I realized the young man's clothes were wet, soaking even. I wondered why. I closed my eyes again, and smiled. Mum and Dad really did love me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Maybe I wouldn't even be alive.

"Mum?" I squeaked. Her sobs ended immediately at the sound of my voice, and she got up quickly. She leaned over and grabbed my hand. Her hold was firm, but gentle.

"Yes, Astrid?" she said. "Mummy's here."

"Thank you," I said. I squinted at her, for my eyes were still very tired. She was smiling at me, and Daddy was smiling too. "I love you." Mum's face lost it's smile, and tears poured down her eyes. It shocked me in a way, for I had never seen her cry before. She was always happy and glowing whenever I saw her. I never wanted her to cry again.

"Stop crying," I said. She wiped a tear from her eye. "I don't even cry that much." She smiled at me, but I heaved a cough. "I'm sorry for running away," I said.

"No, Astrid," said Daddy. "Don't be. We found out from Roland. It's all right." He held my hand too, and I found that his hand was cold and damp. He even coughed a little himself. Mum turned to him then, and laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Will, you should dry yourself off. You'll get ill too."

"I'm fi--"

"Do what Mummy says," I answered. He grinned at me and kissed my forehead. I promised them I would never run away again.