Pleasurable Venom

Chapter 02: Newfound Hatred

I escaped. Hmm…

I test the words out and swish them around in my head and on my lips. "...I escaped." The words roll off my tongue in a whispered mumble. The sound of a voice long out of use, cracks my statement. Gradually, the smallest of smiles curls my lips upward and I giggle. I just stare at the sky, smiling, and giggling. I finally did it. I take a large inhale of air, not exactly fresh but fresher then my stale cage, and hold it in for as long as I can before I let I out and my lungs refill again.

I take in everything in the daylight. I didn't have the time to stop and look at things last night. I clench my fists and moist, not mud, but moist dirt curls into my palms. The sound of people and things flow from a ways away and I listen intently. Sounds and senses I have never experienced before hit me and I take them in and study them. The smells in the air, the taste of the air, the feeling of the cobblestone and dirt and sunlight, everything, every last bit, I accept. This is what it feels like to be free. To be out of metal bars and chains. And I love it, enough to be drunk on it.

Now, to find out what my next goal is. Shelter, I need shelter. I won't be accepted anywhere. Humans, I have found, are not really the type to just accept things they don't know much about or don't find 'normal'. Huffing, I cross my arms and think. I can at the very least roam about the streets without being in a cage. With my mind made, I set off down the alley at a decent pace, eager to see new things and figure out what I am going to do next.

I stop suddenly in my tracks. An even larger smile spreads my cheeks. I no longer need to hide my earring. I fumble with the string keeping my pouch closed and yank it open quickly. I rummage round with my fingers until the cold metal piece is firmly in my grasp and pull it out. Carefully, I remove the back and push the needle like metal through my earlobe, hissing and biting my lip in the pain. I rush to place the back on it and clamp the cuff over the cartilage at the top of my slightly pointed ear. Small droplets of dark blood splash against my pale shoulder and I wipe them away with my slip of fabric for a dress.

I hiss once more and resist the urge to pull and tug at the jewelry. I peer over a corner and hiss a bit at the blinding sunlight. Men, women, and children, bustle about their business and fill the streets where carriages don't. Some carry boxes of miscellaneous things and some hold hands of others. The sights has me stopping and accessing everything. Trying and failing at keeping up with the various things happening.

I absorb the constant things, like the sound of hoofs on stone, the sight of sunlight, the sound of bells ringing above doors as people rush in and out of them, the smell of salt. It takes a moment, minutes, to adjust to the situation. Soon enough I am stepping out from my hiding spot and puzzling my way through the sea of people and things.

As I walk, glares, looks of disgust, adults hurrying their children away, fill my steps. It puzzles me at first but I realize my scales are not exactly hidden and I am wearing next to nothing. Sighing under my breath, I don't allow these to deter me from enjoying my freedom and I continue walking. But it would be nice to not have eyes filled with disgust follow my every movement.

I continue down the wide street. Each of my steps seem silent against the cobble. Save for the light padding that is unavoidable. My eyes dart from window to window, putting names to stores and products to names. Stashing the information for later.

I need money. The world as I have seen has always run on money. Paper bills and small coins, that is what runs everything. And if it isn't money it is humanity. There is no such thing as free. I tone out the looks I get when I come to a dock. Ships, a great many, take up space on the crystal water. The vast bodies of metal bob on the small waves and people focus on their jobs on the decks. My feet make a louder padding sound when I walk over a cluster of wood panels. I peer over the deck at the water and frown when instead of the crystal blue water I thought I had seen, my eyes show me dirty unpleasing water instead. Puke green algae crawls up the rotting wood and floats on top of trash and sticks in the muddy water. Here and there patches of cleaner water show but not much and even in those, the odd color cause my nose to scrunch up in disgust.

I wonder if this is how people see me. My scales are patches of algae infested trash, my skin is murky polluted water, and my hair is rotting wood. The stares would make sense then. If they saw me as I see the water slapping up against the deck.

I really hate water. Especially dirty water. I have for a very long time. My previous captors loved that I hated it. Loved the sound of my screams despite my best efforts to muffle them. Snickers, and chuckles would erupt from their throats when I would gasp and sob for air after being held under a cloth and having freezing water dumped over my face and body. The sound of my chattering teeth and skin sliding on the cold stone would meet their laughter. Over and over again. They would not stop until my body shut down, either because of the cold or because of lack of oxygen. I would wake up still soaked, but chained up in my cage or on the floor next to it.

I straighten up from my crouch and turn. My eyes barely catch the large pole of damp wood coming at my face and I don't have time to react before it makes an impact on my face. The crack and pop of my jaw rings in my ears while sharp tremendous pain blossoms from my jaw and cheek into my skull and neck. It floods my thoughts and I stumble back. My foot catches on a loose panel of rotten wood and I fall backwards. A single high pitch squeak slips past my lips as I fall. I slam my eyes shut and suck in a quick breath before the water swallows me.

Muck and trash fill the space around me, cold water nips and bites at my sensitive scales and fingers. My lungs scream at me and I trash around. I never was taught to swim. I go to scream as flashes of those horrible men blind me from reason. Algae and dirt fills my mouth and I claw at the water in panic. The cloth around my body twists and tangles into my legs and traps them. Desperately my mind scrambles to find out what to do but there is nothing I can do.

Warmth circles my wrist and yanks, painfully almost, and I am pulled onto the dock. My stomach slides against the wood and I cough and gag. The taste of muck lines my throat and I hurl up a small amount of stomach acid. My eyes slowly blink open and air fills and leaves my lungs. I clear my throat and cough up a spoonful of water before I realize the warmth around my wrist was someone's hand. The feeling of small but strong hands clasped around my skin causes me to flinch away. I didn't do anything, please don't hurt me. I plead in my head. I clutch my hand to my chest and wait for something to happen. To be hit or kicked, spat on, or thrown back into the sea. Anything along those lines. But it never comes. Not even a curse or scoff. Nothing.

I debate with myself. And finally I dare to take a look at who had pulled me out. A bush of bright blonde hair, small stripes of plastic red, pale skin. I study it all. His teal eyes and gloved hands. It all captures my mind. Thoughts and feelings explode in my head. This boy, pulled me out of the water and is crying! Crying! His small hands brush away and try to stop the flow of tears, I know feel hot and sticky. Gentle sobs reach my ears and I instantly worry. Is he hurt? I quickly access him and come up with no explanation for this. The string around his neck is loose and holds a straw hat behind him. His clothing is loose but fits him well and there is no sign of blood. The tear continue and without warning my arms rush forward and encircle him, trap his body in a embrace.

"Please do not cry, I am sorry I scared you, I didn't mean it and I swear I won't hurt you." I mutter into his ear, on the verge of tears myself. I pray my voice and tone come off as caring and not threatening. I have never comforted someone besides myself before.

"I am so so sorry miss! I swear I did not mean it! I was just moving this log for Mister Sebastian and I did not see you! I did not hurt you did I?" His hysterical sobbing pains my ears and I flinch only a little bit.

"No, shhhh. You didn't hurt me at all. It's okay, are you injured?" I ask concerned for his safety and ignoring the dull ache in my jaw and the tight stinging in my chest. He shakes his head and I let go of him wary of the fact I just hugged him without his permission. I stand up and step back with my hands folded in front of me and my head bowed to the ground.

My brain picks up the pieces and puts them together. He was the one who knocked me in the water, then he saved me. He is crying now because he is afraid he hurt me. It confuses me. Why is he not disgusted with my appearance?