Hiraeth

Chapter Six

My mother has told me that it's normal to feel scared and brave at the same time when we are in an uncertain situation. A scared feeling will let us know something will happen, and, instinctively, we want to save ourselves. It's not idiocy.

So, I am not an i***t when I've punched Death as soon as I wake up and see him sitting on the chair beside the bed. My fist throbs when it leaves his jaw. I fall to the hard-wooden bed, clutching my fist that seems like it has more damage than Death's strong jaw.

It’s a shame he’s still fixed on the chair when I already use all the energy I gain in maybe hours of sleeping to punch his face.

After a while, the pain disappears almost as quickly as it has come. Now, it makes way to my anger.

I turn my ferocious gaze at him as I regain my composure. “F*ck you!”

He doesn’t react. He only stares at me. His face has a different mixture of emotions that I can’t tell. I can’t even read his face. I don’t know if he’s angry because a fragile woman has dared to punch him or just shocked. After all, he doesn’t expect it to happen. He seems like a type of person that is unusual for a woman who will punch his handsome face instead of complimenting it.

As I wait for his reaction, I feel my body. There's no sore down there, and my clothes are still complete—a white shirt and cropped jeans. Thank God, I wake up when he hasn't done that “thing” to me.

“Ye punch me,” he says in a low voice. It is as if he can't believe someone has punched his pretty, scarred face. He's rubbing the part of his jaw that I've hit. It’s reddish now.

Even if I'm hurt in the process, I feel a feeling of pride and contentment. I've punched his jaw, and now it's red. It means that even if he won’t show it, he still got hurt.

I wear a prideful smile as I lock my eyes on his, but the smile on my face quivers when my gaze falls into his clenched fist.

He will punch me! He will kill me! He’s just waiting for the right timing.

But then he laughs and tries to suppress his laughter with his balled fist but to no avail. His shoulders go up and down. He looks at me with amazement in his eyes. Far from what I've expected him to be.

“North star,” he says in between his laughter, so it comes in a wheezy sound. He seems like he has difficulty breathing because of laughing and, at the same time, talking. “D*mn! Ye need to learn a proper punch.”

“Shut up!” I yell, bringing my balled fist towards his face, but he catches it and flashes his mocking smile. I use my left hand, but his reflex is so fast that he also catches it. Unable to punch him again, I trash in an attempt to get loose.

“Enough,” he says, his laughter fades. “Eat now. Ye need it.”

I follow his gaze, and there I see one slice of bread, as big as my two fists. On its side are one small fish and a reddish apple.

I gulp—my mouth waters at the sight of food. I want to reach it, but Death is still not letting me go, well he already let go of my left hand, but the right one is still in his grasp, the one that I've used to punch him. He plays with my fingers, slightly pulling them then massaging them. It gives me a weird sensation, a tingling feeling in my stomach.

I clear my throat and grab my hand. “I won't eat it. It has a poison.”

“If I kill ye, I'll do it with my bare hands,” he answers, then reaches for the bread, eats a small part of it, and slowly chews it. He's as if tempting me to eat it also.

“See?” he says when he's finished. “I'm alive.”

I snatch the piece of bread from his hand. “The fish. Try it also.”

Again, he chews a small part. He's still alive. This time he gave the fish to me.

“And the apple.”

I am tempted more at the apple, but it is famous because the wicked witch has poisoned Snow White with it. Who knows that Death is not creative in his way of poisoning me and using obvious food to lure me?

“It has no poison.”

“Aha!” I flick my finger in front of his face. “You won't eat it because it has poison in it! That's it. I'm not eating.”

“I don't eat fruits.”

I snort. “You think I'll believe you?”

“Do ye trust me?”

He brings me here because he wants me to be his plaything. He doesn't deny it. He has admitted it in front of me! And now he thinks I will believe whatever he says?

“I have just met you hours ago. And all those times you are being a jerk! Of course, no!”

He nods, grinning. “Smart woman.”

I begin to eat, accepting that I won’t be able to eat the apple. I start at the piece of bread. It's super dry, and it’s so hard to swallow it without the fear of choking. It seems like it has been stored for a long time. I can tell that this bread is near its expiration. I can't complain, though. It's kind of them to let me eat then kill me after. At least they’ve given me food, right?

“Do ye, perhaps, know where the Book of Shadows is?” Death randomly asks.

What the f*ck is Book of Shadows? I want to ask him, but eating is more pleasing than talking to him. So I answer in between eating, “I don't know. I don't care. Shut up.”

Death stays silent. I can still feel his eyes staring at me. I'm right. When I look up, he's indeed staring.

“Shut up!” I yell and throw him death glares.

“I haven't said anything.”

“I don't care! Shut up!”

“Aye, North Star!” He salutes.

“Don't north star, north star me!” I glare. “You jerk! Do you think I forgot? You brought me here so that you can play with me! F*ck you!”

I eat the fish when I'm finished with the bread. Three more bites and I'm done. My eyes now fix at the alluring apple on the table. I want to eat it, but I need to be cautious.

Ah, I’m still hungry.

“Do ye want to get thrown in the water after they use yer body?” he asks. I stay silent, so he continues. “Yer welcome.”

I don't understand him. How can he say I will be his plaything to stop the pirates from throwing me into the water before using my body? Does being his plaything give me immunity to their horrible actions?

“Explain,” I say. “Maybe then I can understand what the f*ck you’re saying.”

“I never explain,” he says in quiet amazement. His mouth curves into a smile.

“Then you can explain now, duh!”

He crosses his legs and taps his fingers at the table beside him. His smile never leaves his face.

“We're all men,” he starts. “A woman on a ship is a luxury. But they won't touch ye if I say yer mine.”

“They won't touch me?” I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to calm down. Calm mi— “F*ck you! So only you can touch me? That's it? You f*cking bastard!”

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “If ye let me.”

I reached for the pillow and hit him with it. He laughs.

I only stop when someone calls for our attention. It's Storm.

“It's starting,” he says.

I don't know what he means by starting. I'm about to ask, but Death stands up and stretches his arms.

“Ye done eating?” Death asks even if he doesn’t see any food in my hands. I nod anyway.

“Let’s go,” he says again, reaches for the apple, and throws it to Storm, who then catches it as it falls. “She's wasting food.”

Storm's gaze falls at me. He doesn't say a word as he bites the apple. I wait for the bubbles in his mouth or him convulsing. It does not happen. So it means . . .

“The apple is not poisonous!” I yell.

I almost stumble when I get up suddenly and reach for the apple. It seems like Storm already knows what's about to happen when he lifts his hands away from me. I can't get it now, but Death can. So he reaches for the apple and snatches it from Storm. I don't know why he's done it, but then he gives it to me.

“You're right! It's not poisonous,” I say, almost laughing. But when I remember my life here is still uncertain, my smile fades. I eat the apple, though.

Storm gets out of the room without saying anything. Death gently pushes me forward, so I follow Storm. Death catches up with Storm, and now they're walking next to each other while I'm following from behind. My attention is on the apple at hand.

“What did ye see in her?”

I know what “her” Storm means. I am the only woman here.

“She's pretty,” Death says. Just like what he always does, he suppresses a laugh.

Something tickles inside my stomach. I ignore it as much as possible. A lot of people say I'm pretty, duh! It's no big deal.

“Prettiest of the ugliest.” Then Death laughs.

Storm, who I have never seen smile since I have met him, cracks a smile in his serious face. It's more like a smirk, though.

When I glare at him, he turns to his stone-faced self while Death is still laughing. Death seems like he doesn’t have problems and that everything in the world is all play and fun.

I have finished eating the apple when I take the last step on the stairs. I'm greeted again by dozens of men. Some are settled on the floor. Some are standing. Their arms are crossed on their chest while their eyes scan me. In front of them is the man Death calls as Captain. He has hollow, sunken eyes and a weather-beaten face. His matted hair seems like he hasn't showered for a month. Everyone's hair is dirty, actually—even Death's dreadlocks. It appears to me that they don't shower at all.

Even their clothes and boats are dirty and worn out. To some who wear tricorn hats, it has obvious damages. They look like a . . .

“You guys are pirates?” I shout, my eyes widening in terror. I cover my mouth at the sudden realization that these men right here are pirates. Like Pirates of the Caribbean! Like in One Piece!

“Yer realizing it now?” one pirate shouts from behind.

“I thought you guys are cannibalistic people that will eat me or tie me in a bamboo spit, and cook me over charcoal then chant in front of me like a disgusting shi—” I stop. The look they throw at me now is the same as when I first laid my feet on their ship. They're like one insult, and I'll bathe my blood. “But you guys are pirates! Real ones! Omg! I'm right, yes? Whoa! This is unbelievable! I always want to see pirates in real life, and now you all are in front of me! You guys are amazing!”

I wish they couldn't see my false cheerfulness when I’ve said they are amazing and that it’s my dream to meet them. I'm happy because my claims are true, though. My happiness is not because of them. The f*ck! I know pirates are all thieves, savages, and drunkards. Never in my life will I wish to meet one.

When I get over my amazement, I look at them, but they all look away—faint red all over their faces.

I'm at a loss for words. Are they—Omg! Are they flustered when I say they're all amazing? What the f*ck!

I smile ear to ear, continuing my acting about finding pirates amazing. Maybe then they will let me stay with them for a while. Perhaps they will have mercy on me and won't kill me. And maybe they can help me find my father and Wade, or they know how I go back to my world. Just maybe.

Before I get lost from my maybes, the captain calls our attention. Everyone's eyes are now on him, although some linger a little longer at me before they turn their gazes at the captain.

“We, pirates, rely upon our decisions merely in democracy,” he starts.

I almost forget that pirates are organized thieves.

I watch Death and Storm mix into the group of pirates in front. I now stand in their front alone.

I hide my trembling hands at my back. I don't want them to know I'm scared. I shouldn't be because I have told them I wish to see pirates in real life. They won't buy whatever words come to my mind if they find out I'm lying. I must act like I'm happy to meet them. I am not scared. Not anxious.

“There are two choices,” the captain continues. “We'll let ye stay here until we reach Port Royal, or ye'll work for us and be our cook.”

I don't know where Port Royal is and what kind of people I might encounter there. They might be much worse than these pirates. But if I want to find my father and Wade, I must not stay with these pirates. They always sail, and it may take weeks or even months to reach land. I won't have much time to search for my lost father and friend. And if pirates agree that I'll stay here and work for them whether I like it or not, they might help me. I can't guarantee they'll help me, though. But I can negotiate if ever that is what everyone agrees.

They vote directly. Their voting system is informal but effective. When the captain asks who favors me staying here until we reach Port Royal, more than twenty pirates raise their hands, including Storm. Death, the captain, and exactly eight people favor me staying here and will be their cook.

It’s so obvious. The majority choose to let me stay here for a while, and then we’ll all part ways when we reach Port Royal.

The captain shouts an order that I don't catch up because my mind wanders again. I only know that the captain says order because pirates spread out and go back to their assigned work. I stay in the middle. I am not moving even if the pirates almost bump me. I only move when Death waves his hand in front of me.

“What's Port Royal?” I ask. At least I have a bit of information about that place.

“It's where pirates and merchants transact,” he answers. “And pirates' resting place.”

“It's not dangerous out there, unlike here?”

“More dangerous than here, North Star.”