The Bastard Girl (The Bastard Girl Series, Book #1)

Chapter 3~ At Your Service

Chapter 3~ At Your Service

There was luck for me buried in the crevices of the nightmare. The dimmed rays of sunlight had warmed my skin, rushing me to wake up and hide the rags for the Cabin Boy's sake. I did wake and snuck it in my trousers, thinking otherwise of risking the blood seeping into the white of my blouse. Not many moments later, the door burst open and in stormed just who you'd expect.

"Why, Tew," I gasped, propping myself up by the palms of my hands, "I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow morning." He brushed off my attempt at an insult and barked, "Shut up, ignorant girl. You don't seem to understand the situation you're in. Right now, bastard girl, you are alone in the world. No one is searching for you. You are trapped here, and you will die here. This I will make sure of—"

"And you, Captain Tew," I yelled, raising my dominance over him, "do not seem to comprehend the situation either. I know I will die here, and this I do not fear. Luckily for me, I will have the pleasure of watching you struggle to squeeze the information out of me. Each dying second of mine will be filled with your suffering—not mine—and I don't regret it a bit."

Unfazed, Tew glared back at me for what seemed like an eternity; then, he reached behind him and possessed a long knife with a curve in its blade. I stared at it, wondering how it possibly could've been crafted. Yet, there was not much time to ponder over it. Tew had grabbed my wrist and brought the blade down onto the skin. It sliced open like a blade to fruit. Blood splattered the floor and my shirt. A scream passed my lips, and I was very sure he cut a vein. "That was for your whorish tongue. Let's see how far we've come." His eyes pierced mine dramatically.

"Now I'd like for you to tell me one simple thing. How many men are on your father's vessel?" Seething in pure pain, I attempted to ignore the burning and immediate aching in the wound. My teeth were gritted so tightly I was afraid they might break.

"Forty...Forty...Forty men." His greasy lips pulled into a wide grin, presenting yellowed and browned teeth. They were crooked and chipped, much like ancient-looking gravestones in cemeteries. Instinctively, I gagged and pushed myself to the back of the wall.

"How much cargo is in your father's ship?" Tew inquired. My choked laughter filled the air. "How subtle you are." Tew shrugged, pretending not to care if I cooperated or not. The knife came down like a hatchet.

My mother was a very beautiful woman, delicate from fingernail to ankle. She had pale skin with ice for eyes. Her eyelashes were black coal, and her touch was a kiss itself. What I remembered most about her was the sweet melody of her voice—the crescendo when father argued with her and the legatos of her love for me. I remembered her once telling me that her father was a pirate and kept most of his brothers as crewmen. She knew every shanty they'd sing. Sometimes, she'd sing them to help me sleep. She knew a fine deal about piracy until it caught up with her and one of her father's enemies fired a bullet straight through her skull. I could still picture her black curls flying in the wind like a ship's flag, like my father's flag.

The energy I once possessed was leaked into the wood of the hull. The constant sway was not pleasant nor did it distract me from the prickling death pleading to give me a final grasp. My arms were wet with blood and somewhat mangled. They laid limp at my sides, but the pain was not much of a severe conflict as was my thoughts. Lines of misery now were artwork on my forearms. They would never look clean and pure again. I was not crying that time but breathing in short, unpredictable gasps. It ended around three hours ago and went on for about three hours as well. The darkness was leaking in like water from an old bucket. The colors of the night danced a light show all its own. Nothing was more beautiful. Reaching out, I twirled my fingers around the dark like it was silk. How mad I might've looked.