Hiraeth

Chapter Four

I stare at the outstretched hand above me. The man who owns it still stands in front of me. He's waiting for me to take his hand, which I'm not going to. This man right here has claimed he's Death. It's weird to name oneself something like that. I think he’s on the verge of losing his mind, or his parents that named him are. Or maybe this isn’t his real name after all. I don’t know. I can only take a guess. But it doesn’t matter anyway.

I give him a quick, upward glance before I get on my feet.

“Polaris,” I say and take his fingers to have a swift shake of hands.

The sound of his soft, melodic laughter fills my ears. It's like I can block the shouting of orders above and the waves crashing with only his laughter. I somehow relax. It’s a shame and idiocy that I want to make him laugh one more time so that I can memorize the sound of it.

I shake my head to erase that thought. That isn’t rational. It’s a deadly desire.

My eyes linger on his face that is half-covered. I wonder what’s behind the cloak, what’s he’s hiding. Perhaps a horrible scar or an ugly face?

“Like a North Star?” he asks and plays something on his tongue, something that glistens when a stray beam of sunlight catches it.

“What's that?” I ask, my eyes fixed at the thing inside his mouth.

“It's a sta—”

“No,” I cut off his sentence. “I know what Polaris is. I mean the thing inside your mouth.”

“Oh, this?” He stretches his tongue, and from my position, I see that it is a piercing. “A ring.”

I nod and drop the topic which I regret taking.

Idiot! Stupid, Polaris!

Why do I have to ask it anyway? And why can’t I look away when he plays with it? F*ck! He’s even enjoying it! With the right corner of his lip slightly turned up, I know and am sure!

I roll my eyes.

Great! He now thinks that I like it. I mean, it's not that I don't. I just don't want to admit it. It's embarrassing!

“So, how long have you been here?” I ask and force myself to look anywhere except for his mouth that tempts me every second. “And will they kill us?”

“Twenty-one hours,” he answers as if it's an accurate calculation, but anyway, thank God he has stopped playing at the ring on his tongue. “Aye, mate. They'll kill ye.”

My eyebrows furrow, and I shudder. “What the f*ck did you mean that they will kill me?” I take a deep breath. Talking about my soon death creates a big lump on my neck, which I find hard to speak, but I still manage to do so. “Only me?”

He flashes a smile, nods, and then plays his d*mn ring again.

“And why is that?” I ask.

“Ye make Bones angry.”

“Who's Bones?” The names are getting weirder every time I hear him say it.

“The angry man above.”

“They're all angry men!” I shout in frustration, making him gasp, and suppress a laugh after.

Anyway, If I make Bones angry and he'll kill me as a result, then the other men who are also mad at me will murder me as well. I can't imagine running for my dear life from these angry men on board. I can't run. I'm not even sure how to defend myself. Wade adds more to my anxiety. What if he's also caught? Not in here but on the other ships? Then people on board are worse than the men here.

F*ck it! We’ve never expected this to happen. What we expect is we go for an adventure together, settle down if the place feels like home, then finally live our life. Not like this.

Death shrugs. “Then the angriest one.”

Maybe he means the handsome guy I spewed vomit on his front. That must be Bones. I never did it on purpose, though. It just happens that when I’ve disgorged my stomach's content, he's in front of me. I understand why he's angry because if it's me, I'll create a commotion. But, duh! Kill someone because of it? Isn't it too much?

Still, I'm terrified. I don't know who I'm dealing with.

“Tell me,” I clasp Death's shoulder. I feel his muscles tense but get relaxed as he finds the situation amusing. I'm going to die, and he's like this, smiling. His smile is annoying. It's like he's saying, “You die, and I live.”

I shake my head. Think clearly, Polaris. No more mind wandering.

“Will that guy accept an apology?”

His lips purse into a thin line, trying again to suppress a laugh but just can't. His shoulders jerk upside down as he let out uncontrolled laughter.

I stare at him in disbelief. What is wrong with this guy? Can't he see that I am frustrated, angry, and afraid? I have mixed emotions! But this guy finds me as entertainment instead. And here I thought he’s not a bad guy. He is, unfortunately. Laughing at someone else's struggles made him a bad one.

“Never mind,” I drop my hands. “I'll just escape.”

“Ye have a plan?” he asks, still suppressing a laugh. He needs to try harder, though.

“I don't need a plan,” I answer, chin up. “I'll escape if given a chance, then cross the bridge when I get there.”

I sit down again, letting my mind wander.

It'll be much better if I run when we reach a land, a populated one. There'll be so many distractions and places to hide, but if right now I can escape, then what the f*ck I'm waiting for? I can't bet on my chances. It might only happen once.

So, when I hear the rusty hinge of the door opening, I get on my feet immediately. Death, who now sits opposite, looks at me, chuckling. I roll my eyes and ready myself for the uncertainties.

I’ve thought someone's here to kill me right now or bring me to Bones that I'm sure he’s planning the most horrible ways to murder me. Still, the person, the same as the guy who has brought me here, throws us two slices of bread, not minding the unthinkable kinds of germs on the floor that the bread will get and will enter our stomach the moment we eat it.

I haven't gotten close to the door when it's closed again.

I sigh in disappointment, sit down again, and watch Death reaching the two slices of bread. He blows it as if the germs and dust will be gone if he does so. Germs aren't a problem to him after all, or he has gotten used to it and is hungry as hell to mind what he's eating.

I grimace when he gives me one.

“I'm not hungry. Thanks,” I say, but my stomach betrays me when it growls. So, Death now begins to cackle.

He's so happy!

For him to stop, I grab the bread in his hand. Germs won't kill me that fast anyway but starving will. So, I close my eyes as I chew the dry bread, tears threatening to escape my eyes.

Without the suppressed laughter of Death or something that will distract me, and with the silence in the room, anxiety catches up with me.

The voices in my head, getting louder and more clear, remind me that my life has been a whole lot of mess. I've been through some never-ending shits. There's no pause if I'm tired. No replay if I make mistakes.

All I want is to rest at the place that I can call home. I just want to be genuinely happy. Why is it like looking for a needle in a haystack or walking into a dark, endless tunnel? Isn't rest and happiness something everyone deserves?

“Here,” Death interrupts my thoughts. When I open my eyes, he, with another slice of bread in his hand, comes into view. He's now crouching in front of me. I haven't heard him come here. If he hasn't spoken, I won't know he's now this close to me.

“Don't cry.” His voice is thick with guilt, and a smile on his face fades.

“I'm not crying.” I roll my eyes, but my tears fall. I can't stop it. All the tears I'm holding come out all at once. My breathing is rapid and shallow. I'm fidgeting. I tug my curly hair with my trembling hands.

“I don't want to die.” I look at Death. My voice cracks as I say the word “die.”

Death freezes. He's as if it's new to him to watch a grown-up woman cry, or he never expects that I break down. Whatever he thinks, I can't feel any embarrassment.

It's so hard to think clearly when a problem comes one after another. I'll experience emotions all at once. For a minute, I'll get scared. Then I'll be annoyed. Then I got angry. And then anxious. Even confronting emotion is hard for me because I still can't control the first one, but another feeling will come. My head's a mess. My heart is too full of emotions.

“Ye won't,” Death finally says. His mocking voice is now gone.

I want to believe that I won't die, but as time passes by, I know I'm nearing my death. It's just ironic how I'm speaking to Death right now. Even the world seems to find my situation funny. I've already known this would be my end, and then they let me meet someone who has the same name of the word I'm most scared of. Or maybe this is Death himself. Perhaps it's not the same in the stories that Death wore all black clothes and a scythe on his hand.

“That won't make me feel better,” I say again, my voice is hoarse.

Something in my stomach tickles when he flashes his reassuring smile. My trembling hands have surprisingly stopped all of a sudden.

I lift my eyes. I still can’t see his whole face, though. It takes me a few minutes to look away. I think I'm going crazy. Is this what my mother feels when she's alone in that room and thinking what's wrong with her and why she's stuck there?

There is a long silence after that. Death sits beside me. His elbow is resting on his right knee. His left foot stretches in front of him.

I don't know what he means by I'm not going to die. I have high hopes of surviving now. I don't know. What he says somehow calms my mind and heart. Perhaps he only says it to stop me from crying. But the way he speaks it, it's something comforting. I'm afraid because I might get drowned in disappointments after.

I don't know who this man is sitting beside me. I only know him by name, and here I am trusting him to sit close to me and his words. I'm giving my trust so quickly, and that scares me.

“What the f*ck is that?” I ask in a hoarse whisper when I hear shouts above. It's not the shouts of order. It's like someone is hurting, dying.

I stand up, listen closely to the sound. My ears become sensitive, and now I'm so sure what's going on.

A fight! What I'm not sure about is who's fighting?

I'm still perplexed about the sudden commotion above when the door beside me rattles. If it isn't for the swift move of Death to pull me away, the door will slam at me. It reveals a silhouette of a man. I see his eyes widening when his gaze fixes at me.

“Death?” his voice low, tone uncertain.

“It's me,” Death answers from behind, his rough hand clutching my left arm.

The man asks again. “Who's this?”

“Lead the way,” Death ignores his question, then slightly pushes me forward. “Storm, my swords are still in Bones' possession.”

The man, whom Death calls Storm, glances at me again. “We're not taking strays.”

Wait! Does this mean we're escaping?

The commotion above is because this man right here is someone Death knows, and they're helping him to escape. This might be what Death means. I'm not going to die because he'll take me wherever they live.

I spun around to face Death, not minding our close distance. With my free hand, I hold onto Death's shoulder and shake it. “Please, take me with you! Take me! I don't want to die here! Please!”

He holds my hand to stop me from shaking him, then flashes his boyish smile.

“No time, Storm,” Death says.

Storm, still uncertain, moves out of the way. We follow him. When we're getting closer to the surface, I can hear the shouts and cries of anguish, the disturbing slice of metal through metal and flesh, and the boom of gunshots piercing my ear.

My body trembles. I haven't realized that I'm holding my breath until we are now in the middle of the commotion, and everything is clear.

I let out a gasp when I took notice of Storm's sword that has red liquid on it, which I'm sure is blood. He sure fights as he has gone to the rescue.

My eyes blink thrice as I slowly adjust to the blinding lightness. Now, I see as clear as the sky above the men fighting. Blood splatters everywhere. Men in uniform and shabby, dirty clothes fight for their life. Some of them are now lying on the floor. Dead and barely alive.

My hands and feet are cold. I can't control my heavy breathing, and everything seems too much for me to witness. They are killing each other as if it's the same as killing a mosquito.

I let out a stifled yell and shrink myself to Death when I notice someone charging towards us. Storm is now busy fighting with a man in uniform while Death and I are at his back, observing our distance because we might get involved in his fight. Death doesn't have something to defend himself. So am I.

I jump to my feet and shake Death, pointing at the man in an exaggerated way. I manage to get Death's attention, and now he watches the man looking at us with a predator's unwavering gaze and flaring nostrils.

“Let go,” Death says, pulling his hood that I'm clutching. I never do what he says. I can't even look away from the man on his way to kill us. With all the brutal killings around, I just want to become a stone. Maybe then their swords won't harm me.

But my silly desire has vanished when Death pushes me to the railings. He's now facing me. His hood falls, revealing his gorgeous face, his eyes down to his nose and lips. His glistening sky-blue eyes, resembling an ocean and a sky on cloudless summer days, meet mine. His eyes are distractingly beautiful. I hardly notice his thick white scar that runs from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife s***h. His hair is in dreadlocks.

“Pleasure to meet ye, North Star,” he says.

I haven't had much time to admire his face when he pushes me again—this time, right into the vast ocean. The action is so fast that I don’t have much time to react. I only watch his reassuring face until he's not in my view anymore.

I'm facing the sky above. I struggle for a second but then let myself fall when I realize I can swim. What Death has done seems to save me from the terrors above. My eyes have seen enough blood, fighting men in swords, dead men.

I brace myself from the impact. When I've come into contact with the ocean, I let out gasps. My back hurts due to the impact, and I taste salty water.

I submerge. On and on. I relax before I fight against the steadfast current and swim with my remaining energy to the surface.

When I'm now on the surface, I cough, letting out the salty water inside my mouth, and run my fingers through my hair that obscure my view to have a better look at the ocean.

I'll wait here for Death and Storm. Death comes a long way to take me with him. He won't just leave me here or—What the f*ck!

My eyes widen because of the sudden realization.

He might be thinking once I escape from the hands of my captors, I'm on my own. Just what the f*ck!

I chew my lips as I examine the area with only my eyes. I stop when I see a small boat on my way. Inside it is men in faded clothes. Patches and rips on their outfits. Loose shirts. Tight leather pants. Three-cornered hat. Pointy black boots. Tattoos on the bicep, forearm, and neck. Shiny pieces of jewelry. Swords on their hips.

Just like Death and Storms'.