pocket before looking at myself in the mirror. The bruises around my neck were all but gone—faded yellow markings, that bordered on healed.
As per our routine, Charlie was standing outside the door, yet he stared at the floor—a third cigarette in his mouth when there were two smoked to the butt already on the floor.
“The second you step off this ship, you’re gonna come to your senses.” He smiled at the floor, the weight of the epiphany too much to keep his head up.
“I’m real grateful, don’t get me wrong.” He laughed then, a sprained sound that choked on itself. I flinched at his sadness and pulled the sweatshirt closer around my neck; he wasn’t even being sarcastic.
“But the second you realize how crazy this is, you’ll get your head back. It’s already started, hasn’t it? Pretty soon, I’ll just be a bad memory. You’re gonna live the rest of your life not even remembering you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”
“No, Charlie, no.” I took the cigarette from him and stomped it out with my shoe, though truthfully it was somewhat pointless, considering it was all but gone anyway. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
I closed my arms around his waist as tightly as I could and stretched until I could feel my wrists touching on the other side. I wanted to squeeze all the doubt from him, comfort him as much as he would let me.
“I plan on loving you until the day I die.” I felt him flinch at the mention of potential death, so I retreated. “So there!” I stuck my tongue out at him, and made the strangest facial expression I could manage. I was grateful that he smiled a little for me, though I had to admit, it wasn’t much.
“Will you stay with me for a while?” he asked. His voice seemed so small then, nearly inaudible.
I smiled against him. “You know I will.”
Once inside, I made him take his boots off and lie down. His eyes fluttered shut within a matter of seconds. Despite my efforts, I too, felt the heaviness of sleep drift against my eyelids. Outside the cabin, I could hear men walking around, chatting in different languages while whistles went off, signaling who only knew what.
In his sleep, Charlie pulled me closer, possessive even in this state. I listened to the rhythmic heartbeat in his chest, thinking I would only let him sleep for a little while so he wouldn’t be angry, but enough for him to actually rest.
I was having a flashback.
Wallace. The fear. My impending end. Dying.
I was dreaming again, right? This was just a nightmare, another awful, terrible expression of my overworked imagination?
I shouted out, though it was cut short as he hit me in the face. When the pain came, it was harsh, forcing my vision upside down as my head lulled to the side.
“Shut up!”
A sharp pain reached me again at my scalp. I could smell the stench of body odor, grease, and fuel. It was everywhere as he yanked me by my hair, dragging me across the room and out the door.
I tried kicking my way out, feeling one of my sandals slip off as I did so. Charlie’s cabin edged farther away as I was pulled down the hall. I screamed out again while trying to scratch at the hand that held me.
His spare hand hit me again.
I could taste blood, though where exactly it came from I wasn’t sure. I heard whimpering, and felt instant shame when I realized the sound was coming from me. I was so pathetic, unfocused, and unsure. I reopened my eyes and tried to make myself aware. Even my worst daydreams had never felt this real. Why wasn’t Charlie waking me up? It could have been like my favorite of Poe’s poems, A Dream within a Dream, without the romance.
I retraced the dream in my head. It hadn’t been a long one, and it was simple enough. The sound of the storm returning had awoken me from my sleep, and I squirmed my way from Charlie’s embrace, thinking I could get some water and be back before I had to wake him. But then something, someone large and terrible, grabbed my arms.
I was pulled into a familiar entryway with container holds.
“You shut the hell up!”
Once inside Hold 6, Wallace pulled me up only to shove me back down to the floor. I picked myself up, still tripping over my bare feet and sprained ankle. Wallace