*Sabrina*
The sea never stops moving.
Even below deck, with walls around me and wood beneath my feet, the constant sway pulls at my balance, like the ship is trying to remind me that I don’t belong, that I’m a passenger in a world that wasn’t meant for me.
I sit on the narrow cot, my knees drawn up, a blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders. The wool itches, and the salted air stings my throat. My fingers tremble around the tin cup Isla gave me—ginger tea, she said. It’s gone lukewarm now, but I sip anyway, hoping it helps.
Above me, the groan of timber and the thud of boots rattle through the ceiling. Shouting echoes faintly down the ladder well. It’s all a blur of noise and motion. I close my eyes, breathing slowly. I can’t afford to cry yet, not when I’m already a curiosity. To th
