How naïve could I have been to have believed that true love could be conceived and consummated in less than a week?
I recklessly paced the room. I felt like a caged zoo animal. Really, a better description would be to say that I was a bird that was never meant to fly, practical and intelligent like a penguin or fowl. So even though all of my parts were there, from an evolutionary standpoint I was defective. That’s why it had been really quite silly of me to think someone like Charlie could ever love me. He was an untamed beast in the wilderness who needed his pack. Meanwhile, I was designed to function in solitude as I always had.
This was my fault, I decided. I should have known better.
A light tapping sounded somewhere outside the cabin. At first I thought it was the rapping of someone outside the door and panic clutched at me. But the tapping was more widespread than that, and I remembered how erratic the waves had been and what Charlie had said about the impending storm.
At least he hadn’t seemed to be lying about that.
The tapping increased into a steady sheet of rain that I could hear bouncing from the ship’s sides like they were flimsy pieces of scrap. Every few minutes, I could hear a thunder clap in the distance as well, but it sounded too far away to do any damage. I was glad the storm had come when it did. I still didn’t know anything about being on a ship, but I imagined there wouldn’t be a whole lot of time for a crew to kill and dismember its stowaway when the weather was disagreeable. Hopefully, Charlie was far away from the cabin, doing something productive to keep the ship and its cargo safe.
I looked down at my swollen ankle and grimaced. It looked worse than it probably was, but it still hurt. The ball of the joint had become swollen and gained an abnormal crimson color. I should have been putting ice on the sprain, but that wasn’t an option now. I could only hope it would be okay in case I had to run. Odds were I would have to do a lot of running.
I listened to the rain, a constant pummeling on the outskirts of the ship. I became somewhat concerned at the intensity of the storm. The ship would be capable of handling this sort of weather, right? I began pacing again and considered my options. Concentrating on the sharp pain above my foot helped to keep me centered, helped to keep the fear away.
When the storm passed, there was a very real chance they would come for me. Then again, it was still possible that they wouldn’t. It could only be just one more day until the ship landed somewhere where I could find an American embassy, or at least someone to help me. But what would I do until then? These guys had to know I was in here by this point; I could give them that much credit.
What was my best move here? Once they considered their options and realized I would probably repeat everything I saw and heard to the first law enforcement official I came into contact with, they would probably cut their losses and toss me overboard, laughing as I struggled for breath.
I shuddered at the notion.
Okay, so what to do? If I stayed bunkered, at least I was familiar with my surroundings and could hold out here for a day or so if need be. On the other hand, I was a sitting duck. I had turned myself into a prisoner that they had access to anytime they wanted, and that could only mean their advantage over mine.
I was going to have to get out. If I was smart about this, I could hide quietly somewhere and then sneak off during what I hoped would be the chaos of getting to port. With any luck, my new talent of being invisible would pay off here, and maybe I could just slip off without much trouble.
I put my brush back in my bag and secured it tightly to my back. I was just trying to psych myself up when an idea occurred to me. I glanced over at Charlie’s stack of sketchbooks and picked one up. This one was unfamiliar to me—the one he never let me look through. Without looking at it, I put it in my bag. I decided I wanted