Misery
The world is treating me bad, misery.
When I looked up from the longboat as I helped the remainder of the crew in, I was not at all prepared for what I saw.
Elizabeth and Jack.
Kissing.
From where I stood, it didn't look like a little goodbye kiss, or a "Thank you for sacrificing yourself for us" kind of kiss. This was a bloody "I cannot live without you, please don't leave me because I love you" kind of kiss. A bloody passionate embrace that seemed to last forever.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to kill Elizabeth, kill Jack, kill myself, or all of the above.
The pain that coursed through my veins at that moment was unlike any I had ever felt before, and as a former blacksmith, I know pain. However, there was something a bit surprising about the pain. Yes, the pain was tinged with feelings of jealousy and betrayal, of that I am certain. However, the feelings weren't because of Elizabeth and the fact that she was kissing another man. It was because of Jack kissing someone else.
Someone other than me.
Surprisingly, the thought was not quite as shocking as one would expect it to be.
If I was completely honest with myself, I would say that I've been attracted to Jack from the moment that I met him. After all, we have not had the easiest of relationships, a belief reinforced by the fact that he has no problem with selling the souls of his old friends to save his own. Of course, his dubious stance on personal hygiene and his skewed moral compass is another matter entirely.
But there was just something about him, this aura that would pull anyone in, even the most jaded individuals.
The way his eyes lit up with mischief right before committing some sort of atrocity or the jaunty way that he'd swagger when strolling about the docks of the Black Pearl, that damn battered hat of his perched on his head. Then there was the way that he'd throw himself into any fight, heedless of any imminent danger. The sarcastic verbal sparring, the adventures that we shared, the times spent in his cabin sitting silently, sharing a bottle of rum and taking comfort in each other's presence.
Then there were the looks that I'd sneak at him while we'd be standing on deck, only to find him trying to sneak looks at me. Or the tingle that ran up and down my arm whenever he'd lay a casual hand on my shoulder, that goddamn smirk curling his lips as he looked at me slyly.
I will forever be grateful to him for he opened up my life to so many possibilities, things that I had never imagined before. He essentially delivered me from a life of mediocrity…
Somewhere, somehow, the line between friendship and love got blurred and I fell in love with him. Of course, if I were being completely honest with myself, I would have to say that that happened a lot earlier than I would like to admit. And all it took was an illicit kiss between Jack and my fiancée, the supposed love of my life.
Now he's gone. Possibly forever.
And all I can do now is weep.
