The small hands of the child are holding onto the white fabric of his mother’s dress. A strong looking men with a thick black beard holding her arm, his dirty fingers clenching around her sensitive skin. The dark wood creaking beneath their feet, the smell of sweat, rum and blood clenching everywhere. Black sails, ancient wood, they say the ship is as old as its captain.
It is rumored the captain sold his soul to the devil to get infinite life, sailing his hell ship for forever like he is the darkness itself. His prayers not to a god, but to the devil himself. His soul must be as dark as the ship he sails. Wherever the ship goes, despair is all it leaves behind. The streets colored in red whenever his in expensive leather covered feet touch the ground. He looks like an angel, with his long blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and crystal eyes. But he is everything heaven is not.
Full lips smiling when they run away from him. They all feel fear when his cruel face falls upon them. They all know he is no good, they all know he is everything that scares them when night falls. His crew plundering the houses, killing the men, raping the woman. The children are taken as slaves, to be sold elsewhere. He takes no part in his crew shenanigans, he seems to be busy with something else entirely. The cities they burn leave him unsatisfied each time again, his glass eyes never finding what he is looking for. No one knows what treasure he is after, the captain does not often share his thoughts. They only know of his wrath when another raid proofs to be yet another failure.
It is rumored that he had sold his soul to the devil, but the ones who had survived him knew he was the devil himself.
They are chanting as the captain’s most trusted men pulls the two innocent souls towards the middle of the ship. The crew hungry for blood, ready to demolish the girl in all the ways god has forbidden. Her body trembling under the harsh treatment and their loud words. Her free hand searching for the one of her son, his small fingers clenched around hers. She knows she should be strong, she knows she needs to be strong for her young child. Pushing his head against her belly, her other hand placed upon his ear, so his innocent mind doesn’t hear the foul things the men around them are screaming. No child should feel fear like this, no child should have to be in this situation. Living live on the run, leaving their city when the lasts one burns down. They all wonder what kind of treasure their captain is hunting for, she is the only one who truly knows.
“Who is this whore!” “Let me test her before you give her to the captain!” “We should tear her apart in front of her child!” Voices so loud and many, it’s unclear which sentence belongs to who. The rough laughter of the black bearded men only adding more pressure to her fear. The child is crying now, his tears staining his mother’s dress. Her words soothing, trying to talk his and her own fears away. It’s no use, their foul words are louder than her attempts of calming the both of them down.
Some miss their teeth, some of them a leg. All of his crew is here for a reason, they all believe to find salvation in Satan. Some following his dark path because in him they found a reason to finally do the vile things unpunished. Raping, killing, stealing, it is all justified under the believe of doing what you want. Some follow him because they truly believe in him and what he stands for, some of them are only here to be loyal and watch the world burn at his feet. Not caring if they burn with it, knowing they did everything to help him is enough. They all live for the chaos, all are like chaos itself. Closing in on the three people, nasty promises are being made.
The girl her body almost sinking down on the wood out of fear, as they come closer and closer. Her cheeks stained with tears, her cries silent falling from her mouth.
Loud laughter, as they find rejoice in her despair. They live for this, they live for her fear, they live for how she reacts to their words. And it almost gets too much, her knees falling upon the wood, her child save in her arms, as her fear turns in anger.
She won’t be afraid, she must be strong, she must be tough, for him. For her son. Her mouth opening to scream, her eyes filled with fury.
The sound of his booth on the ancient wood makes her mouth close, her arms clenching around her son in a vain attempt to protect him from the captain. The crew is in silence at once, as their captain finally emerges from his cabin. Like the sea they split for him to see the ones his right hand had caught.
Michael Langdon his smile one of satisfaction as his eyes fall upon his most desired treasure, the ones he had been chasing for what feels like an eternity. His voice dripping like honey, the feeling his voice brings similar to the stained red velvet jacket he is wearing. “So, finally I’ve got you where I want you.”
The lavender corset pushes her breast up, a golden locket dangling upon her cleavage. She carries two large glasses filled with beer, the white foam of the drink wetting her hands as she clumsily makes her way through the busy pub. It is not uncommon to do the same work your parents do, it actually is uncommon to do something else. Her parents, British immigrants who had found their way to the Caribbean isles, had opened a bar in the local town. This made their daughter automatically a server in their well visited pub.
“Here you go, two beers.” While placing the two drinks in front of the two men, someone bumps into her. Making her lose balance, spilling some of the drink over the blonde one. She feels her face heating up, the feeling of shame pulsing through her body. She really isn’t the waitress type, with her clumsiness it would be better for her to just stay behind the bar. “Oh, fuck, I am so sorry.” The unlady like word escapes her mouth without her noticing it. Her hand pushed against her mouth after, as both men laugh. The blonde one looks up, his pants wet with beer. He does not really seem to care though, as his handsome face is decorated with an amused smile. “I don’t think I ever heard a lady use a curse word before.” She smiles at his words, the shame flowing away. The two men seem unlike any other men she had ever met. “I guess I am not really a lady.” The blonde his pale eyes scan her face, slowly going down to where the locket hangs. His cheeks coloring red, as he catches himself looking at her cleavage. “You do look like a lady.” The man accompanying the blonde boy has a black beard, he looks like the rough type. “Just a commoner, I am afraid. Let me get the both of you another drink.” She feels awkward under his praise, wanting to get away from them as fast as possible.
“Let me help you.” The blonde one is already standing up before she can refuse. He follows her to the bar, leaning against the yellow wood as he watches her pour another drink. “What is your name?” he asks, his head laying upon his hand. “You can call me Clumsy.” Not willing to share her real name with this stranger, no matter how handsome he is. He laughs, not offended by her secretive words. “I am Michael, and my friend is called Cornelis Mead.” With a kind smile she gives Michael his beer.
“It was nice meeting you, Michael.” His brows are furrowed after her words, he is not used at being rejected. Normally girls fall like dominos whenever he talks to them, they are all willing to glue themselves against him in the desperate attempt to get his attention.
Michael knows he is pretty, knows he is lucky with how he looks. But this strange foul lady does not seem to care. “Till how late is your shift?” He asks, not wanting to leave this interesting girl behind. “I don’t have a time, my parents own the bar.” This gives Michael an idea. “Why don’t you join us for a drink then? I am paying.” Her smile broad, as she leans on the bar as well. “And what if I order the most expensive drink we serve?” Her face mere inches away from his, he can almost smell the soap in her hair. “I promised to pay, and if that is what you want, then that is what you get.”
His body pressing hers against the dirty bricks of the wall. Their faces barely visible in the darkness of the alley beside the pub. The screaming of drunk people fading away, as the night slowly becomes the morning. He kisses her when the sky turns grey and the shadows grow larger. Tasting the expensive wine she had been ordering throughout the night on her tongue. Eyes closed, as the sweetness of her becomes one with the bitterness of him. The pure girl melting under his touch as ice melts when it is exposed to fire. The small moans she produces when his mouth bruises the skin of her throat are making him weak. His touch making her want to give in to everything her parents forbade her to do. His name on her lips, as his teeth scrape against her skin. “Do you give yourself to me, Clumsy?” Michael may be a pirate, but he will not take this girl without her permission. Her eyes shifting from his blue eyes to the street on their right. The small spark of doubt in her eyes gone when she sees the pleading look in his eyes. “My name is Mallory.” She tells him. “And yes, you may have me.”
He is gentle with her their first time. Getting her wet and needy before he takes what he wants. Slowly filling her, his pace as gentle as the water scribbling against the ship. Her back arched, as he gives her pleasure so sinfully sweet it makes him wonder if he really is the devil child they all say him to be.
He has her until she is so adjusting to the size of him it takes only a few pushes for her to scream. He has her until the sun is high in the sky and the crew wakes up from her screaming. He has her until her voice is hoarse and he had heard his name coming so much from her mouth it will be stored for forever in his memories. And when she leaves, sharing the same fucked out glow, they promise each other they will see each other again.
But he never does, months later when he comes back for her, she is not there. Her parents refusing to speak her name, as the whispers call her a disgrace. They tell him she ran away with a local man, refusing to be bound to the future her parents had set up for her. Michael feels real rage for the first time then, the feeling of betrayal souring his love for her. A rage sweeping through his body, because his most precious treasure got stolen away from him. He vows to himself he will find her, vows he will burn everything until he has her again. The rage not cooling down as he start his hunt based on the whispers where they saw her last. He will find her, he will make her regret leaving. No one gets to break Michael Langdon’s heart unpunished.
“So, finally I’ve got you where I want you.” The captain his cold eyes burning into hers as he slowly walks her way. Like an animal ready to attack his wounded easy prey he circles her. Watching how she holds her child, the shuddering of her body. He can smell her fear, taste it on his tongue even. The heavy sweet taste of her he had almost forgotten about clouding his senses. Her child looks like her, he wears the same expressions. He owns the same beauty his mother had used to seduce Michael. In everything her son is like her, expect the eyes. Wet with tears and filled with fear, they still stare bravely into the captain eyes. The corners of his mouth curling into a cruel smile as the realization washes over his dark soul as he stares at her son.
Michael finally makes up his mind, his heart aching with just the thought of her leaving him. Of her denying him, she deserves what is coming, she deserves every moment of torture he will bring upon her. He stops in front of her, looking down at her pathetic almost crying form. She must finally realize that what she did will not be accepted. She got caught up in her own game, Michael has her where she doesn’t want to be. “Bring the child to me.” His voice empty of emotions, his facial expression mirroring his tone. She does not deserve to know how he truly feels.
What follows is a scream, her voice clear and echoing against the wood. The laughter of his crew follows as she tries to keep her child with her in a weak attempt. Cornelis Mead is stronger than her, he pulls without much effort the boy away from her arms. The child in front of him is skinny and shaking out of fear, his bones visible beneath skin. A life on the run did not treat this boy kindly. Michael his smile is cold, as he looks down on her sons form. “Bring him to my cabin and make sure he eats.” He nods at Cornelis, the boy struggling and fighting his grip. Screaming for his mother’s name as the captains most trusted man takes him to the cabin. His crying still audible, even when the doors close.
“So, that leaves me to you.” Slowly he walks to her, surprised to see the anger in her eyes. He can hear the beating of her heart, throbbing against her ribs as if it wants to get out. “What are you going to do to my son?” She spits the words out, the tone of her voice one of fury. “If I were you I’d be more worried about what is going to happen to you.” Her body slinking in relief. As if he gave her the best news she could receive. “As if you scare me, devil child.”
He wants to keep her, he really does, but he knows she would soften his heart. And that is not something he likes. “Stand up.” She does not listen to him, stubborn she keeps sitting on her knees, her doe like eyes challenging him to do something about it.
His hand around her arm, pulling her up with a force she can’t fight. His face close to hers, her breathing rapid and hot on his face. “If only you listened, if only you were obedient.” The hand that is not holding her arm grabs her face, pulling it towards his.
His mouth roughly pressed against hers, stealing the kiss with force. For a couple seconds she lets him steal the kiss, almost leaning into him. But she changes her mind, as she still can hear the crying of her son. Her teeth sinking in his bottom lip, drawing blood from him. With a moan he pulls away, his tongue licking the blood from his lips. He is not really mad, amused even at her for trying to fight him.
Mallory her lips stained red with his blood, her eyes still angry. She does not like the smile he gives her, does not like the deadly promise the glint in his eyes give her.
The white fabric of the dress waves in the wind, as she walks the plank. The untamed sea beneath her seems to be calling for her, licking his blood from her lips. The metallic taste of it in her mouth. The taste of him will be the last thing on her tongue, the echoes of her sons crying the last thing she hears. Falling into the water, as she steps from the wood. Her body going underwater, the heavy fabric of her dress pulling her down. And as she dies, the only thing on Mallory her mind is revenge.
Michael doesn’t even stay to watch her walk the plank, leaving her alone with his chanting crew. Instead he goes to the boy in his cabin. Finding the familiar pale blue of his own eyes in the boy’s face.
He may look a lot like her, but the eyes are all Michael.