Please Don't Leave | Disney Descendants *FINISHED*

I Found You

I spent the entire next day cleaning the apartment. I swept up the glass, placed the frames of my broken mirrors back on the shelf, fixed the door, the gate, and the sign, and put a few sloppy stitches into the couch. I had even stolen a bucket of white paint, and covered the graffiti in my bedroom, adding the words "Long Live Evil" on top in neon green spray paint when it dried. Then I was done. There was nothing left for me to do. I started getting antsy, pacing the loft a few hundred times before I finally decided to go out. I slung my jacket over my shoulders before I walked out of the door.

I meandered around the isle for a bit, passing the fish markets, the random storefronts, the misplaced homes, tents, and drunks, before I finally stumbled into a district, I was often banned from entering. Uma's territory. The air on this side of the island was different. Of course, it smelled different, saltier, but it also FELT different. More... Free. I passed random dock workers, who looked at me funny as I walked, hands in my pockets, and head held high past various shops offering handmade fishing poles, pirate hats and attire, boat part repairs, and swords. I took a second, pausing as I stared up at the building that my feet had carried me to. The fish and chip shop. I stood there for a few minutes, the voices in my head bickering back and forth on whether or not I should go in. Eventually, I felt my feet begin to lead me again. Only this time, we weren't going in the direction of the chip shoppe. Instead, I walked past it. I traveled down an alley, made a sharp left, and headed down towards the abandoned docks. I hurdled insults and old Ale bottles before I was finally alone, staring up at a small brick building.

I walked up the few creaky steps of the building and tried the doorknob. No luck, it was locked. I sighed and took a step back, noticing a cracked open window on the second floor. I glanced around, and when I was almost completely sure there was no one watching, I reached up, grabbed the ledge of the awning above the door, and tried to pull myself up. When I was finally up on the small, sloped roof, my arms were screaming at me. I ignored the burning in my forearms and settled my feet on either side of the peak in the roof. When my balance was secured, I stared at the window in front of me. I placed my hands on the bottom of the pane, and gently pushed up, leaving a sizable gap for me to squeeze through. With a big breath, I grabbed the windowsill, and slithered through the gap, landing with both feet on the floor of the apartment in front of me.

I turned back to the window immediately, lowering the pane back to where it was when I first entered. My fingers lingered there, wiping at the dust collected on the windowsill, eventually reaching up to pet the red fabric that had been turned into a pair of makeshift drapes. I turned around slowly, attempting to assess all of the threats of the situation. The apartment was small and dim. There was the faint lingering scent of cooked fish, and as I peered into the kitchen adjoining the living room, I could see the evidence of that morning's breakfast in the sink; one frying pan, one plate, one fork, and one knife. I walked past the kitchen without a second glance, focused instead, on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. An extra knife, a small golden earring, a matchbook from the chip shoppe, and a homemade candlestick lay in their permanent homes upon the wooden countertop. I spun around, taking in a glance of the living room. It was cleaner than I would have thought. The only boys' apartment that I had to compare this to, was Jay and Carlos's, and well there were a few differences. For a starter, the air didn't smell of rotten food and sweaty boots, and there was a TV sitting on two empty crates opposite the couch (Carlos had been wanting one for years but try as he might, Jay just couldn't manage to get his sticky fingers on one.), and the walls were relatively barer. I walked up to the wall next to the TV, my fingers lightly running over the crude knife marks left there. It was obvious that he had once used this spot for target practice. There was still a knife sticking out of the wall in the top corner, a small sliver of paper sticking out from under it, like he had taped a picture up, and ripped it down, leaving a small piece of evidence remaining. I sighed, dropping my hand as went through the small hallway on the wall opposite of this one. There was nothing on this wall other than the hallway and what I was assuming to be the front door. I walked, the wooden planks beneath my feet slightly groaning as I made my way back. At the end of the hall, there was a door to either side of me. Shrugging, I reached out my right hand and twisted the doorknob I was met with. A bathroom. Nothing very special. It was a small bathroom. Only enough space for a small tub, a toilet, a mirror, and a sink, a small window above the tub trying its best to illuminate the whole room. I left the door open, turning on my heel and opening the door to my left. The bedroom. It was small too, but it was the fullest room in the house. I gasped when I entered. He must have robbed someone blind for all of the possessions in this one small room. There was a bare window in the corner and a soft red rug under my feet. A bed twice the size of my own filled up the majority of the space, but it was what was on top of the mattress that really made me giddy. It was filled with pillows, all in varying shades of blue, and at the foot of the be, sitting atop the blue sheets, was a blanket! I reached out, my fingers sliding over the soft edge. I had half a mind to grab it and run, but that would defeat the purpose of my being here. I managed to rip my eyes away from the bed long enough, for my eyes to scan the wall above it. Much like my own room, someone had taken to drawing on it with spray paint. The words "WE RIDE WITH THE TIDE" were dripping in blue. On the wall in front of the bed, were more wooden boxes, mostly filled with clothes. There was one overturned box next to it that really caught my eye. This is where he left all of his things. On top was a bottle of cologne, two more candles, a large open spot where his hook would go, according to the dust patterns, and a journal. I let my hands reach for the journal, hesitating, but eventually lifting the front cover. There were no words written on the pages, instead, he had drawn pictures in graphite. The first was of a ship, and so were the second and third, well let's be honest, most of them were ships. But then, I suddenly reached a page that was different. There was another piece of paper folded up, lying on top of the drawing underneath. I picked it up and held it in my hand as I admired the portrait on the page. It was of a man, with a big nose, a fluffy white shirt, a handlebar mustache, and a pirate hat with a large feather, but most importantly, a hand was drawn on, reaching from the bottom of the page, a hook sitting proudly on the top. His father. My fingers began to tremble slightly as I unraveled the note clutched in my hand. The prayer was old and stained, a piece was missing from the top corner, and holes were scattered through it, but it was still legible. It was a note.

Son,

Take good care of me hook. She's the only thing that matters.

-The Captain

I felt my eyes well up with tears as I shook my head. I guess I wasn't the only person on this island who had been abandoned.

The sun had just gone down when the door flung open, a light from the stairwell casting a glow on my face as I sat cross-legged on the couch. He looked surprised as he stood there, his hook dangling from his hand as he stared at me. I was the one who spoke first.

"I found you."