Recap: It's then that I see it, a body covered with blood hidden just behind a tree, the chest of the boy no longer rises and falls, it remains still. Sticky with blood.
"Who did that?" I ask looking from one man to another. The red haired man looks at me with pity in his eyes but Mihawk looks at me with an anxious expression. He opens his mouth and the word I hear shock me to the core.
The world slows down for a second threatening to stop, freezing me in this place, in this time.
"You did." Mihawk answers. His voice is absent of any feelings at all and for once I'm glad. I can tell he isn't judging me. I wait for a second before I realise I have an alibi, I was out cold throughout the second part of the battle, the real murderer is not me.
"But I was unconscious!" I half scream at him. Of all the dirty low life tricks, how dare he blame this on me! I wait, he blinks at me waiting for my emotions to pass, they don't truly pass but they run from my face into my stomach, boiling my insides painfully. He pulls the blade from his back pointing the sharp edge at me, millimetres from my flesh. A sticky strawberry substance falls from it dropping to the floor. I absent-mindedly lift my hand up to the sharp, soiled blade pulling my finger across it gently, the substance is thick and runny yet not solid at all. It soaks into my skin seeking refuge within me and dries slightly where I touched the blade. I pull my hand up to my nose smelling the liquid. The thought of that sent flows back into my mind, reminding me of how I smelt it before I passed out. It smells like copper and I pull my hand from my face as if burnt. Mihawk watches me carefully, his eyes following my slow movements as if waiting for me to break down, I don't. I stand silently staring at my hand, more precisely my finger sticking out offensively, covered with that boy's blood. Mihawk still does not speak he simply waits for me to make a move.
"This smell." I say more to myself than him. The red haired man now looks at me, his face remains solemn as if attending a close friends funeral. "It's that same smell." I touch the blood with the palm of my other hand as if this will answer my questions, it doesn't.
"What smell?" The red haired man asks, prompting me to continue my incoherent thoughts. I remain silent, not ignoring him merely pondering what I mean.
"I smelt it." I say in a trance like state watching how quickly it dries to the palm of my hand, remaining forever in my skin. "I smelt it before I passed out." I reply. The man surprises me as he looks up quickly with a confused expression.
"You didn't pass out at all." He says as if reminding me that I am confused with another event. Why is he trying to pin this murder on me? I was unconscious when the boy died it wasn't my fault, was it? My anger does not boil this time, I remain calm still watching the blood on my hand, though all of it has dried now and begun to flake. Mihawk shares a knowing look with the man and the man nods stepping back a few paces as if giving Mihawk a silent signal.
"It has been a long day." Mihawk states, still void of any emotion. "We need to rest." The red haired man nods again and I silently agree also, though I have been asleep for a while I still feel tired and my muscles ache as if my body has been under strain, I put this down to stress after all this world is so much worse than my own. Mihawk walks through the clearing, I follow silently and the red haired man follows after me.
The men who were previously sat drinking are now all sat waiting for the red haired man to rejoin them. I smile, this man must be important to them. The man sits back on the rock he was sat on when we first met him. This time I take in his appearance. He seems young, older than twenty yet younger than forty. His hair is longer than the average mans but he fits in well among his friends. Three scars lay across his right eye yet his face remains handsome for his age. I smile if only my dad had aged so gracefully.
I feel a hand on my back I turn to see Mihawk. There is something between us and I don't know what it is but I feel able to communicate with him silently. Here I know he wishes to speak with me alone, I oblige silently of course. He walks with me a few metres from the group and turns swiftly and gracefully; I stop feeling like a clumsy little girl in front of him.
"You will stay with Shanks." He says to me in a commanding voice leaving no room for me to argue, yet I do.
"I will not." I reply angrily, how dare he think I will stay here with this 'Shanks' who I don't even know and expect me not to argue. I trusted him, how dare he leave me now! "I don't even know who this 'Shanks' is." I protest loudly causing a few gasps from the men nearest to me; I ignore them, angry that they are listening to a private conversation.
"Shanks is the red haired pirate." He replies to me, his voice remaining in a monotone. This gets me even more angry, now he's playing me for a fool, I knew I shouldn't have trusted him, after all once bitten twice shy.
"Pirates don't exist!" I scream at him before storming off into the trees angrily. I see a few of the men's heads turn to me a look of shock on their faces. Once out of view of the party of men I break into a run getting as far away from them all as possible. Finally after about five minutes of exhausting weaving through trees I reach a satisfactory moss covered ground where I curl up and close my eyes letting the curtain of sleep fall over me.
The little girl wasn't supposed to be outside, her daddy had told her to stay in by herself but she was frightened of the cupboard monster and so had left. She decided to make her way to the village square to look around the shops. She had walked here lots of times with her mommy and she used to with her daddy too, that was until he was too busy with work of course. She walked towards the chemist; her mommy said that's where sick people got medicine. Through the window she couldn't see any tablets just a few sequined bags, several candles all in different bright colours with pictures of flowers and trees on the labels, a patchwork teddy like the one she got for Christmas, crystal ornaments like her grandma has, one was shaped like a beautiful swan in flight. She once read a book with her daddy about a swan, it turned from an ugly duckling that everyone hated into a beautiful swan that everyone loved, they had of course read it before her daddy was too busy with work. Turning quickly so that her dress flared out around her she skipped to the next shop along, a shop name that she couldn't read stood over the window, the gold, swirling letters peeling off from the black sign. Inside the shop there were books with drawn pictures of peoples rooms, material lay on steps and over the steps lay fancy curtains of deep red colours. Wallpaper was cut out and put near the curtains. A photo of a family of three sat in a picture frame nailed to the wall. A little girl was smiling out of the picture being hugged tightly by her mommy and daddy. The little girl smiled at the picture thinking of how this was so much like her mommy and daddy. Again she swung round ready to go to the next shop window when she saw someone she recognised. Her daddy with a lady she didn't know. The lady was pretty; she was younger than her mommy but older than her next-door neighbour. The lady held tightly on to her daddy's arm and for a second the little girl felt jealous until she saw her daddy smile at the lady kindly, like he used to smile at her mommy, the little girl was excited, did this mean her daddy didn't have to work as much anymore now that he was happy again? Did this mean her daddy would play trains with her again? She hoped so because she missed her daddy very much.