The Explorer's Apprentice

22:Abby's Regrets

Yay TEAtitanicfan who wrote this entire chapter, completely on her own, and shall be writing the remainder of the Abby chapters.:) Yay!! Hope you guys enjoy, and thank you all so, so much for your glorious support!!:)

 Abby Bronte

Abby wakes in a spotless bunk, and for a moment she doesn’t want to get up.  She closes her eyes, adoring the way the boat rocks her.  It’s always been a feeling she loved, ever since her parents, the one back in the present, brought her sailing.  No matter where she sat, even in the cabin, the experience was so soothing.  Her father had been a natural, expertly tying down sails, and yelling instructions at her mother.  The way the waves rocked her, how her father was so free and happy, how even her little brother felt included.  They went sailing every summer, and each year, it seemed to get better.

Part of her, the Charlotte part, hates the feel of it, and wants to escape the containment of the floating vessel.  It’s like being trapped, Charlotte reasons.  There’s no way off.  That’s the whole point, isn’t it?  No doors to the outside world.  Decks below the open air, only water surrounding me. 

Charlotte remembers a time when she was forced onto the boat, forced into the grimy rooms filled with anxious men, waiting for her to satisfy their cravings.  No matter how dead her eyes looked, or how reluctantly she dragged her feet, nobody below decks cared about a…whore. Even Abby winces at what she is now, ever since she’s become Charlotte.  On deck, by the sea, is the only place Charlotte feels comfortable.  The ocean has always reminded her of freedom.  Nobody owns it.  Just how Charlotte always wished she could be.  How Abby has always been.

Abby breathes in, expecting to smell the salty ocean air, but instead gets a strong whiff of something else.  A sharp, foul scent intrudes her senses, and her eyes suddenly fly open in shock.  Father’s drunk again, Charlotte concludes.  As if he could sense her thoughts, the drooling man, curled up on a lower bunk, lets out a sharp snore, and rolls over.  Abby wrinkles her nose in disgust.  She’s always thought drinking was wrong.  A waste of money, something that should be frowned upon, that only leads to despair in the long run.  More now than ever, after meeting the train wreck that’s Charlotte’s father.

A dress is already lying on her bed, something she had done last night out of habit.  Charlotte’s habit, Abby corrects herself.  It’s getting harder to clarify which thoughts are Charlotte’s and which are hers.  They get muddled together sometimes.  Mostly, Abby gets strong urges to act on little thoughts.  But she can say no to them if she wants.  Still, Abby is more anxious than ever not to completely give into the shy, timid personality of Charlotte.  Abby knows that something about it isn’t right, that she can’t forget about the present.  She knows if she does, something will go wrong.  She’ll loose herself, and stay in the past, and she needs to get back to the future.  Back to her parents, Luke, Alison, Belle, even the new girl, Marley.

A small thought reminds Abby to force on her tight, filthy dress and get out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible.  If she doesn’t, Father will be furious at her.  He’ll call her lazy, and tell her that the clients don’t like it when she’s tired.  But, like everything about Charlotte’s father, there’s another side.  He’ll be angry if she doesn’t stay exactly where he expects her to.  But, at this very moment, Abby doesn’t care.  She just wants to get out of the foul smelling room and out to the ocean.

Abby manages to climb down the bunk without waking either her mother or father, and lets out a sigh of relief when she closes the door undetected.

Abby starts to walk down the bare white hallway, to where the elevators are waiting for her, in her stockings.  Her black heels are held in her hand, as she didn’t want to wake her parents.  And, though the cement floors are frigidly cold, she doesn’t want to put them on her feet.  She recalls how sore her toes were yesterday and how she had taken every opportunity to sit down to stop the aching pain.  Besides, Abby’s never minded the cold.  The nearly constant humid heat of Florida had made her grateful for anything cooler than eighty degrees.