When the guard leads me down those creaking wooden steps to my prison, the smell of rotting straw and other undistinguishable things hits me. I grimace at the sight of the mound of yellow bedding. There is no one else in any of the cells. Of course, there are not enough pirates around for them to lock up now. The guard keeps a firm hand on my arm until we reach the cell closest to the stairs. He removes a set of silver keys from his coat and unlocks the door.

Without putting up any sort of fight, I walk into my new home, kicking up dust as I enter the cell. Apparently no one has changed the straw recently.

"Welcome home," the guard spits and turns his back on me once he's relocked the door, heading back up the stairs. The first thought that occurs to me is that I can easily escape this place. No half-barrelled hinges can hold me.

But I want to stay here, not sure what I will even do once I've escaped. I sit down on the cold stone bench against the wall and rest my head in my hands.

I have no idea where she is or where they've taken her, perhaps to see a doctor? It doesn't matter, I'll find her whether it takes a few days or a few years. She always turns up. But she's never been taken away before. It bothers me to know that they've put her somewhere, what if they figure she shouldn't have survived? Of course she shouldn't have. The fall was so long, so hard. But they didn't know what point she had fallen from. In fact, they couldn't even be sure if she had fallen. If they really believed I had murdered her, or tried to at least, then they might think I had done it some other way. Especially because she was still alive, meaning that her injuries should have mostly healed up.

I move on, thinking of what is to become of me. I really must get out of here. Otherwise, they will try and hang me. When it doesn't work, I don't want to imagine the outcome. They will think I'm the devil himself. Well, maybe I used to be. Maybe I still am. But they didn't need to know that.

All of these decades, we had been trying to keep a low profile. My unsuccessful hanging would be nothing of the sort. So with that resolution, I decide that I must leave. Standing up from the uncomfortable bench I examine my cell. My clothes are still wet from the rain and I shiver as the door at the top of the stairs opens to let in some cool air.

Hurriedly I sit back down on the bench, casually leaning over my knees as if I haven't moved from the beginning. Boots thud down the wooden steps and I look up in anticipation, wondering who it can be.

A familiar hat rests on a head of black hair, various trinkets and prizes braided into the thick dreadlocks. Jack's long coat brushes his legs as he walks right up to the cell door. He looks more sober than I've ever seen him, but he still has the half-drunken swagger so he can't be too dry.

"William," he states, touching his hat, adjusting it on his head.

"Why are you here?" I ask in a miserable tone.

He smirks unpleasantly. "Look mate, I've come to set you free. The guards up there are all busy elsewhere with something... and this is your chance."

"Where are they?"

"Dealing with her," he says darkly.

"Dealing?" I ask curiously.

"Yes, she's causing quite a bit of trouble. Now do you want out or not?" he asks, waving the keys he has clutched in one hand. They clang together quietly.

"Not really," I mumble, looking around the empty jail.

"Good," Jack says and proceeds to insert one of the keys into the lock, twisting it around until there is a satisfying click.

I sit there for a moment, watching him as he swings the door outward. I want to run up those stairs and find her. I want to take her in my arms and kiss her again, letting her know that everything's fine. I want to sit here and wilt away.

"Come now lad, let's go," Jack beckons with a ring bejewelled hand, "Before they finish and come back please."

Sighing in unwillingness, I stand up from my seat and walk towards the open door. Jack shuts it behind me and leads the way up the stairs, his boots scuffing up the damp wood. The wind from up above hits us as we exit the warm jail and I shudder.

"Why are you setting me free?" I ask in a tired voice as we hide behind a stack of crates while Jack checks for guards.

"Cause otherwise, you were going to hang. Wouldn't want to cause an uproar while I'm here. Once they suspect you're not... usual, what will that mean for the rest of us, eh? 'Sides, you once set me free, now I set you free," he explains and waves his hand for me to follow him around the crates. We walk calmly out from our hiding spot, trying not to draw suspicion and attention our way.

"Alright William, I must go back to my ship, duty calls. And you have your own duty. Go find her." He pats me on the back, a dark look on his face that I don't understand. He turns to the sea, where his ship is docked out of sight. Neither of us say goodbye, knowing that we'll all see each other again soon enough.

I look around at the open beach before me. Jack had said that the guards were all with her. This is not the place obviously. This place is deserted. I wonder just what sort of trouble she could be giving them.

Determined to find out, I follow one of the main roads to the center of town, hoping it's the right place to look. I don't care if I'm seen. Surely not everyone knows what I have supposedly done. And even if they do it doesn't really matter because these cobbled and cracked streets are empty, there is no one to spot me.

I'm almost there when I hear it. A loud scream cuts the eerie silence of the town, unmistakably hers. I shiver, trying to expel the chills running up and down my spine as I quicken my pace, running through the last few streets to where they're all gathered.

Staying tucked around a corner, I look into the open square between streets, stone buildings lining it. A mess of uniformed officials crowd around in a large circle. I look at the object of their attention, and find her there in her stained white dress, hair and eyes wild as the sea during a storm.

"What have you done to me?" she screams at them, tugging at the red mess of her dress.

"Calm down!" one of the men yells and tries to step towards her. She backs away, pulling at the fabric that sticks to her skin with moisture. The hem that reaches down to her knees tears under her nimble fingers. The guard reaches out to her. She screams again, a tear running down her face as the piece of the torn dress hangs down from the rest of it. I hold my breath as I watch the scene, wanting to run out of my hiding place and take her away. But I'm frightened of her and know she will only be frightened of me.

The guard stops his advance, his expression one of strict seriousness. "Miss, we're trying to help you."

"No! Get away from me! What have you done?" She wails and rips at more of her dress, tearing off the rest of the hem, shrieking when she twists around and sees that most of her back is stained. She sobs, grabbing at the bloody fabric in terror.

She closes her eyes and sinks to the ground, clutching at her hair. Two guards take this moment to rush up and her and take her arms. They pull her back up to her feet and turn her around to face one of the stone-walled structures.

She now has her back turned to me and I feel the urge to intervene. They lead her roughly to the strong front doors of the building, pulling at her arms. She laughs then, a cold laugh that makes the guards look at her in fear and surprise.

"Get her inside!" one of the others shouts.

She turns around and glares at him, her eyes blurry. Then she says in a very calm voice, "I don't belong here." She smiles then, a dark smile. The guard ignores her and the two holding her arms wrench her back around to face the right direction. She cries out and they tug her up the set of five stairs.

I read the wood sign beside the door, my heart plummeting down to the furthest depths.

Mr. Fox's asylum, since 1675

How was I ever going to get her out?