.: Entry Sixty-Three :.
My name is Elliot Parker… Except right now, it’s not.
My silence has said more than I wanted to express. I sit here in silence as day turns to night and night to day. It spins by and my refusal to speak stops me inflicting damage. That doesn’t mean the rage inside hasn’t leaked out to the world around me. The sea has been rough for days. If I unleashed it, if I speak, if I say anything, I might not be able to stop. If I can’t control myself, this ship will be smashed to pieces. I don’t know if “the Captain” could stop me.
Somehow I battle with myself, if I let myself tear this ship to splinters I could break away and runaway, again. But if I runaway, heaven knows what might happen. I might be somewhere I don’t want to be. I am locked in my own body on a ship stuck with the very person I was running from. I never really escaped, I never really ran away, not how I wanted. I am being pulled back. Do I hate him more for lying? I know I lied, at first, now, it is better to stay silent then get pulled back in. Do I… Can I even hate him? I mean, was it all really an act on his part. Was any of it just an act on my part? Is there any way it was just an act and nothing more? Can I convince myself that my heart never skipped a beat? Not one single heart fluttering moment was real? Is there any way to back out now, am I really going to be locked back into this?
If he takes me back to my home, what awaits me? How angry will my parents be? I mean after all, if they lose their own control, like I am afraid of doing right now, they could reduce the kingdom to ash. I might be powerful on my own, but two uncontrolled rage plus there is no doubt I would react, it could turn the land to ash and then what? I’ll be the unforgiven petulant girl who ran away who runs away again, if it is possible a second time.
“What do my parents know?” My unused voice is cracked and broken. It snaps “the Captain” out of his thought staring out the window. He rushes around his desk and kneels in front of me. I tried to read his face but I am weak. My lips are dry and the only thing that passed them is the broth he forces down my throat to stop me from wasting to nothing altogether. If he is wearing a mask, I can’t see it. I don’t speak again.
“They know you came with me, I had them told we were getting to know each other on a short cruise.”
“They don’t know?”
“No, the blue and cream, they were sent to find me, they found out about the destroyed ship and they were the search party, it’s why the resistance was weak to us taking the ship.” I feel my silence resume. It’s the first time I listened to what he said. I’ve tuned him out for days. Put myself in a bubble and he knows it. I allow myself to slide back away from the room, he can see it as my gaze becomes unfocused, he tries to stop me. He shakes me and I keep backing away building the walls up around me. He tries to pull me back again.
My parent’s didn’t even know I ran away; they might never have to know. I could follow his lies, that we went away to get to know each other. I could go along with the story, I could just look like for once I was being compliant with what they wanted for me, for the kingdom. They might not hate me forever if they found out the truth, I’m not in the worst position with being an only child. I can see through the unfocused gaze “the Captain” has left the room.
I stand and walk over to his desk, his stolen desk. It is the blue and cream’s ship after all. The draws are all locked, I can’t remember them being opened. I kneel by the draws, I take a deep breath before I begin to try to pick the lock, I’m not the first to try, but maybe I will have better luck, a few minutes pass that feel like hours before I crack the lock and open the draw. Stacks of papers. Sketches of “the Captain” his name scrawled below it Prince Adrian Ferislekraig. That name rings so many bells, like a forgotten talk, a forgotten discussion, a forgotten argument with family. Like a hollow moment in a past that is lost to the minor moments of an argument, a look of disappointment… the reverse of a sketch, “day walker” is scrawled hastily on the back. I see a sketch of myself the brief scribble on the back, “rescue- wanted unharmed” my name looks so strange scrawled by my image, an old handwriting so familiar that I can’t quite place. Princess Ellainor Parkrovia. I hear footsteps on deck approaching.
I replace the sketches in the draw and pick the lock to close it before I am seen. I stand unsteady and sit in the chair and turn so that I am staring out of the window, the first time I have spoken in days, the first time I have moved willingly in days, that is all he will see as I stare aimlessly out at the water rolling at the ship, the “Captain” strides into the room. I feel my movement register on his face. “First you speak, now you move, not hatching a new escape plan are you?”
I shake my head to say no and keep my eyes on the water. What the hell does day walker mean? Until I can dig some more I will refuse to speak, to ask anything.