29. Let That Sink In
Let That Sink In
I think I’m drowning. I’ve never been so close to death before, but this must be it, must be the end of the line.
Bubbles rise from my mouth as I press my hands to my throat, clawing for air. My chest feels like it’s going to explode, tight and bursting. My eyes drift closed, and I think, for a long, dreadful moment, to let the water win.
It would always end here, me bleeding out at the bottom of the sea.
Alone.
How ironic.
But as my vision grows fuzzy and the pain in my side goes numb, I picture his face. Silas with that goofy smile stretching across his lips, his head thrown back as he laughs. Silas, with those calloused fingers.
Silas, with that adoring look on his face right before he kisses me.
Silas, waiting for me on that ship.
Alone.
But we don’t have to be alone anymore.
I blink up at the vessel as I sink farther down in the water and exhale. I can already taste the salt water flooding my lungs, and I don’t have a lot of time left before it’s over for me, but still I search for something to cut the rope on.
And then my eye catches on Silas’s knife glinting atop the sand at the bottom of the harbor.
I swim toward it, as much as I can with the length of rope from the cannon still wrapped around my ankle.
My chest is excruciatingly tight by the time I reach it, and I gasp, inhaling water as I bend toward my ankle and begin sawing.
Time ticks down as pieces of the ship splash into the water above, sinking into the sand around me. My vision grows black around the edges, and my hands are frantic as the last of the rope falls away, freeing me. I slip Silas’s knife clumsily into my belt and push off the sand.
I break the surface with a painful gasp, spitting up water.
My insides scream with each breath, my lungs on fire, but I inhale shakily, forcing my pulse to slow.
Coughing, I struggle to tread water, my body aching, the pain in my gut hot and pulsating as I spin in the water toward She Deceitful.
Smoke billows from the wreckage, pieces of the ship scattered around me, floating in the water or sinking in the harbor.
I’m terrified to go to it, to see what’s left of the little life I’ve grown fond of, but I can’t sit here and watch him die. I swim to what remains of the ship, and though my injury rips open with each stroke, I don’t allow myself to stop until I reach She Deceitful.
It has sunk so low that I only have to climb up the ladder a few steps and pull myself over the side with a grunt before slipping into the water flooding the main deck.
The wood creaks beneath me as the ship takes on more water, flooding in around my ankles.
The center of the ship is concaved, the harbor swallowing it quickly.
There are things floating in the foot or so of water, trapped beneath the weight of wood and cannons.
Clothes, and an old, beat-up instrument that no doubt belonged to Tarly.
I pull myself to standing, hissing against the throbbing pain. There is smoke everywhere, gunpowder on my tongue, and I squint against the haze, coughing and wheezing as I scour the debris.
“Silas?” I croak. “Sir?”
Something wet and cold brushes against my leg, and I glance down, relieved to find Sir, soaked through and unhappy, but alive. I pick him up, petting him and cooing under my breath as I do.
“Spent one of your nine lives, huh?” I whisper, holding him close as I scan the rest of the ship.
“Laszlo!” a familiar voice calls.
I gasp at the sound of his voice. He’s alive.
One hand pressed against my wound, the other holding Sir to my chest, I fight through the wreckage toward him, toward Silas.
The water weighs down my clothes, making my movements slower.
My eyes and throat are burning from the sea and smoke, and each time I inhale, there’s a sharp throbbing in my stomach where I’m injured.
When I pull my hand back, my fingers come away red, slick with blood, my blood.
Pitching forward on shaky legs, I scan the fallen masts and the last of the ship as the sea begins to engulf her fully. And then I see him, still pinned to the deck beneath the weight of the foremast.
“Silas!” I cry. I trudge through the water to him and fall to my knees with a groan.
Sir grunts, but stays firmly in my arm, eyeing the rising water with distaste.
Other than a few minor cuts, Silas looks okay, mostly intact.
Except for his leg. It is red and swollen, a long, deep gash along his thigh from a piece of metal sticking out of the mast.
And he is trapped.
“Laszlo, it’s no use.”
I shake my head and grit my teeth as I carefully hand over Sir, wrap my arms around the mast, and yank. But it’s far too heavy for one person to move—for me. Shaking, I look around at the littered goods, what’s left of the ship floating in inches of water as we sink.
“No, no, I can do this,” I say. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”
I reach under him and pull him up with everything left in me, yanking, but he was right; it’s no use. His leg is trapped beneath the mast, and I’m not strong enough. And there’s only the two of us.
“Silas, please.”
It’s all falling apart, and I can feel this life I’ve built crumbling in the harbor. Maybe I should have said something more, should have convinced him to go with me to shore when we still had the chance.
Silas looks at me with a sad smile, and I can tell from the tilt of his head and the curve of his lips that he sees what’s coming. This was always inevitable. Ever since George told me the story, ever since I knew their ending—our ending—there was never going to be a way out of it.
Still, I stayed. I hoped I could stop it, find a way to alter the chain of events that led to today, to this. But all I’ve done is make certain everything would happen as it was always meant to.
He fishes for something in the water and shoves it into my hands. His brow is furrowed, his face twisted in pain, but still Silas lets his hand linger for a moment, fingers brushing mine before his hand drops to his side. “You have to go.”
I shake my head, a sob building in my chest. “No, no, I can’t.” It’s an impossible ask. How can I leave him? “I have never allowed myself to believe I could find someone, anyone who could love me as wholeheartedly as you do, but now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go.”
Silas traces a finger down my cheek. “Laszlo.” His voice cracks as he says it.
“I refuse to leave you.”
I lean forward and capture his mouth with mine, savoring that intoxicating scent of his, tasting it on his lips.
Sir makes a soft squeak in protest as I pull Silas closer, unwilling to let go.
I try not to cry, but when I pull back and cup Silas’s cheeks, he’s stopped fighting his own tears.
And seeing him like this, seeing him break, seeing him know what’s coming, knowing that if I don’t leave, I die with him, sends a new wave of heartbreak over me.
The water is to my knees now, and Silas struggles to hold his head up, struggles to breathe.
I hate to see him like this, hate to know this is how it will end for us.
Oh, I wish I could end it for him, slide the knife into his side like he threatened to do to me all that time ago, but we both know I’m not brave enough.
“If I go down with this ship—” he starts.
“You won’t, Silas. You won’t, do you hear me?”
Shaking his head, he sits up as much as he can, face twisted with pain. Before I can protest, he drags the jacket over my shoulders with one hand and thrusts a meowing Sir into my arms before pushing with all his might, sending me stumbling.
“Silas!”
“I love you, Laszlo. Your secret dies with me. Now, go tell our story,” he says as I slam backward.
My head cracks against a floor, and I cough as I sit up, clutching the back of my head.
Sir yowls, nudging my hand with a cold, wet nose, and I pet him numbly, blinking at our surroundings.
I am alone in the cabin once more. There’s no burning, sinking ship, no trapped Silas, nothing but a clean, unmarred captain’s cabin and a large, wet orange cat looking to me for the answers.
“Silas?”
But no, it’s just me, Sir, this jacket, and an empty ship.
I grasp the desk next to me and stand on wobbly legs, spinning in a circle, taking in the room, its empty white walls, the random books filling the shelves, the fake maps and golden instruments littered over the desk.
It looks nothing like it did. These are only props; it’s just a replica of the captain’s cabin I’ve come to know and love. This place does not look lived in.
Because he is dead, and She Deceitful sank in the harbor, like it was always meant to, three hundred years ago. And the man I have become during my time with that ship and crew and captain is stranded, left to die, and the rest of me has been thrust forward in time to a place I no longer care for.
I bang my fist on the desk and shove everything off it. Screaming, I tear up the maps and break the quill and spill the ink, and still, the anger and hurt in me are too much. I can feel myself breaking, feel my everything falling apart.
There is white-hot pain, and I gasp at the ache in my side and press a hand to it. The wound is still bleeding. My shirt is soaked with blood, red spilling down my leg and staining my pants. I’d forgotten about it in my fury.
I lean against the desk for a moment, suddenly lightheaded, and look around at the mess I’ve made.
Sir stares up at me from the floor. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can’t tell whether I’m crying or not.
I’ve left bloody handprints everywhere, a map of red tracing my movements in the cabin.
Breathing shakily, I hobble to the door before taking the familiar stairs up to the main deck, Sir following at my heels.
“Laszlo?” I see George at the forecastle. He’s scrubbing the deck on his hands and knees. His jaw drops open in surprise, and he tosses the scrubber away before standing and crossing to me. He stops a few feet away.
“Laszlo, is that you? Where have you been? And where did that cat come from? Where have you—” He cuts himself off as he takes me in, and I stand still before him, blood dribbling out between my fingers.
And then he sees it, the blood. He reaches out as if to help me, and I dance away toward the railing.
Shaking my head, I teeter toward the side of the ship and clamber down the gangplank to the dock. “Laszlo! Laszlo, you need help!”
Ignoring him, I squint down the dock. It has been weeks since I stepped foot here, since Louise led me to this person I was meant to become. Since I abandoned everything I thought I knew and fell in love with a pirate captain.
I lurch toward a rubbish bin and reach shakily for a discarded newspaper folded across the top. My fingers smear blood across the paper as I peel back the cover and scan the top for the date. I drop it, stepping back. It can’t be possible; it can’t be.
What has felt like an entire lifetime for me has been whittled down into a single day.
I’ve only been gone a day.
Suddenly, the pain is excruciating, and I fall to my knees as the last of my energy drains away. My bloodied hands go to the wood of the dock, smearing across the grimy surface.
Sitting here, staring out at the crowded dock on a rainy London day, I can’t help but think I wouldn’t have minded if I’d never seen it again. If I had died on that ship, holding his hand. If we had died, together.
I didn’t belong here, but I belonged with Silas. And now, I don’t belong anywhere.
“Laszlo!”
There are sirens in the distance, and I hear someone calling my name, others rushing forward to help me, Sir’s cold nose nudging my blood-soaked hand, but I’m slipping before anyone can reach me, tumbling through the dark.
Alone.
Again.