A Pirate's Love

Short Drop

"Elenor," Sam's voice called out to me, breaking my train of thought. I looked at him in response, his eyes glowing back at me with worry. The carriage rumbled forward as we sat across from one another in silence. My stomach, intestines, and lower back were cramping and burning from the alcohol consumed overnight. My limbs ached with a heaviness unexplained, and a headache was forming behind my brow bone. I was having a hard time paying attention. "Did you hear anything I just said?" Sam asked, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry," I said with a dry mouth and cracked lips, "I'm a little distracted." My ears rang slightly in my head as we passed a tight row of trees. The sunlight shone through each branch, casting shadows and bright lights in a rapid flash. With each pass of light through my eyes, my headache worsened.

"Please, drink more water," he urged, glaring down at the cantina gripped loosely between my fingers. I took a conscientious sip, allowing the cool liquid to hydrate my throat slowly without making me nauseous. Sam had left me at some point in the morning, leaving me to wake up alone and eat by myself. I was famished, yet I became nauseous with every bite. I guzzled it down because I had to, but after dressing properly, my guts fevered under my corset. Sam turned away from me and rested his elbow at the window, rubbing his forehead profusely.

"What time did you leave?" I asked, catching him off guard. His eyes bore into mine for a second before he spoke.

"An hour before dawn. Before anyone was awake," he said straightforwardly. I nodded, knowing he was being extra careful. In the past when we would spend similar nights, Sam would leave at the crack of dawn. We were never as close as we were last night, as Sam would usually sleep far off in the corner of the room, behind my divider. All hell would break loose if we were caught in the same bed this morning. "I can't take a risk like that again," he said nervously. "What if somebody saw or heard? What if your father finds out? I'd be a dead man." My stomach churned at the thought, unable to digest the anxiety of losing him.

"You were careful, weren't you?" I asked. His fingertips trembled slightly and his face went pale.

"Yes," he answered after a short while of contemplation.

"Then you have no reason to worry. We've done this so many times before and have never gotten caught," I tried to reassure, yet his face still twisted with unease.

"Last night was different," he said, scratching his cheek.

"How?" I asked, only recalling flashes of my nightmare. Sam blinked at me blankly, seemingly unable to answer.

"You don't–" he began, yet was cut short as the carriage came to an abrupt halt and the door swung open. Sam quickly stepped away and stood just outside, providing me a hand as I climbed out. I gave him an insistent look, as to say we would speak of his concern later, and that we needed to be presentable. He gulped down his worry, understanding my glare. My father stood outside to greet us, and held his hands outstretched to me. I merely walked toward him, dismissing his invitation for an embrace.

"Ah, my Nora," he cooed as he grasped my shoulders. "What a lovely day for a hanging," he said gleefully, his smile sickening my stomach in a whirl. "Come, you're missing all of the excitement," he gestured for us to follow him as he turned. We entered a small building that jutted up to the town square at the back. Large windows viewed out to the square, showing an array of townspeople gazing at the gallows, cheering in deafening howls. A man hung from the rope, wriggling at the end of it until he could no longer. The sight of it made me woozy, and I struggled to stomach the image. Their howling brought me back to the killings of Dan Deranged on The Funeral of Innocence and how his crew approved of the brutal murders. It was the same chaotic energy, only with less blood. I caught Sam's eyes, desperately needing strength. I watched him take a subtle deep breath, encouraging me to do the same. I closed my eyes for a second and breathed, trying to keep my courage. "Wonderful, isn't it?" My father asked, breaking my peace. "One hundred and sixteen men are being hanged today, most from The Funeral of Innocence," he said proudly as if he had single-handedly captured the men himself.