Dinner Time Musings (Fever Dream)
They never talked about what happened in Vaas' room; Dominique prefers it that way. She doesn't want to remember the feeling of helplessness, of being at the mercy of a man who's got severe mommy issues. She massages her neck in afterthought. She doesn't want to remember how close he was and the way things went down in his room. The way he held her, the way he talked about his past, the way her body easily melted into his, all of it felt too intimate, too personal, too knowing. The fact that she reminded him of his mother was creepy; she doesn't want to think about it too much.
She shudders in afterthought.
Meanwhile, her captor seems to act like nothing had happened; he sits at the center of the dining table like royalty, looking down on his subjects like they were ants. Like he was the one who was slaving over a hot stove to feed hundreds of people. As much as Dominique wanted to say something smart, she knew better. She wanted to live just as much as she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.
"I want to thank these lovely ladies for the food they worked so hard to make," he nods at the two. The Rakyat cheer and applaud. He says something in a language Dominique couldn't understand, and instead observes the way the natives responded. From her deduction, it seems to be some form of prayer.
After the prayer, the natives made quick work of the food. Dominique takes a bite of the pork when she catches Anika's eye. She sits across from her, sipping her beverage and her worried eyes glinting in the fire. The question was loud and clear.
'What did he do to you?'
'Nothing,' she mouthed. She didn't want to relive that moment of terror. Anika raises an eyebrow.
'I'm a doctor, Dom. I can see bruises on your neck all the way from here. Did he try to…?'
"No," she hisses. A few Rakyat look over to her.
"Sorry," she whispers.
"Another subject at hand is the sleeping arrangements of our new…guests. They have done numerous improvements to the island, have they not?"
Applause.
"A doctor, a nurse, and a cook who's prepared this lovely feast for all to enjoy. Cheer for the three that have helped us all."
More cheering.
"Who would like the task of sharing their home with one of these three?"
It erupts in noise and arguments.
"Hey, hey, HEY!" he fires his pistol. Silence.
"One at a time." He reasons.
"I'll take the nurse. Our family owes him an immense debt for aiding in my daughter's sickness." One pleaded.
"The doctor can stay with us. We live in a small hut with no children. It's enough room to house her."
"The cook can stay with us. I'm the one who knows about the locations of the island's spices. I aided her in seasoning the meat and dishes."
"Good point, Anansi. Cook, you room with Anansi and her family."
Anansi claps a hand on Carmen's shoulder.
"Doc, how's living with Burka sound?"
Anika looks around and sees a couple cheering.
"I accept." Anika says. Under her breath Dominique could've sworn she heard her say, 'Not like I have much of a choice.'
"Fargo! You are willing to let the nurse room with you?"
Fargo grunts.
"So all that's left is the hairstylist. Any takers?"
Silence.
"Looks like you're bunking in with me."
Dominique would much rather let the Earth swallow her whole.
Dominique washes the dishes after the festivities, her hands becoming wrinkly from the constant abuse of water and makeshift soap. Her stomach is twisting in knots as she feels a pair of eyes burning into her spine, making her way down to her backside. She doesn't say anything; she closes her eyes and tries to wish herself away back in her nice warm bed, with the halogen lights shining through her blinds. She can still complain about how…
"You got a big ass, you know that?"
She almost dropped her dish. She whips her head around, cheeks flushed and her hands gripping the plate tightly. He chuckles.
"Finish the rest tomorrow. It's time for bed. Or do you want to stay out all night in the jungle like last time where you almost got eaten by a tiger?"
She swallows deeply.
"Am I sleeping on the floor?"
"You're going to be sleeping in the bed with me."
"…oh."
"Is it a problem? Because you always sleep with Raoul…"
"It's not a problem, Vaas."
"Good!" Vaas claps his hands together.
"Now let's get you settled in."
Dominique lays on her side, the cold air seeping through the metal cuff wrapped around her ankle. She wants to ask him to take it off but she knows he won't let her. She knows he doesn't want her getting confused about her position. She's his prisoner; not his girlfriend, friend, or guest. For the price of her life and her friends' safety, she's to never forget that simple fact.
She can feel his eyes burning holes in her back.
Does this man ever go to sleep?
She doesn't want to turn around; his eyes look even scarier in darkness. It's like they glow in the night; those eyes will definitely give her nightmares. She arches her back closer to the wall, the cool surface giving her solace against his hot gaze, but it doesn't make Vaas stop. He seems to inch closer, his front almost touching her back.
He really has no concept of personal space.
So she lies there, feeling his breath tickle the back of her neck. She refuses to look at him; she stares at the wall, counting the grooves. When she got to one-thousand-sixteen, she dozes off.
She dreams she's back in her apartment, in her plush bed listening to the corny love songs on the radio while chewing through generic brand cereal. She dreams of her mother's kisses, her dad's laugh, her sisters' voices, her brothers' loud footsteps. She dreams of boring days and nights where she can predict where she's getting her next meal. Most importantly, she dreams of a life away from a deranged pirate with the shocking mint green eyes…
'Did I ever tell you…what the…definition, of insanity is?'
No.
Anything but that.
Anything but…
Her dream becomes a nightmare; she's back in the jungle, shackled and at the mercy of a black shadow wielding a machete.
"No, no please…" she pleads. The chains are digging into her skin; she feels her blood trickle down.
The shadow doesn't listen; it comes into the light and she sees a white man with strange tattoos, dark brown hair, forest-green eyes that lack humanity, wearing a dirty blue t-shirt with the beige khakis.
"No, not again…please, not again..."
The white man smiles, inching closer.
"Did I…ever tell you…what the definition…of insanity is?" he raises the machete and brings it down.
"Stop…no…please…Jason, please STOP!"
She screams, her body thrashing and flailing against her restraints. Muffled voices fade in and out, until a sharp pain hits her in the cheek, like she'd been slapped.
She wakes up.
She finds herself back in the jungle, in a hard bed, shackled to a deranged pirate who is looking at her like she's grown three heads. She wipes the sweat from her head and averts her eyes.
"Did you just say…Jason?" he asks, his eyes wide like saucers. She tries to control her breathing her to speak.
"I…I don't know."
"I heard you say his name. This wouldn't be a California white boy Jason, would it?"
"I don't know who you're talking about." Dominique bites out, her head throbbing.
And I don't want to know, she thinks, the distant memory of her screams echoing in her mind.