He was a pirate in every sense of the word. He came into her world while she slept and stole her away from safety. He was a literal thief in the night, stealing her virtue and then her mind. He twisted her into whatever amused him most. She followed blindly, depending on him to lead. She had not asked for his world but that was what she got. In time, she learned to tolerate his abuses in quiet servitude.
She lived an unfamiliar terror, never knowing what anguish he would inflict next, only knowing that he would not fail to. They had battled for her life, and for her will to live. She suffered seven years of soul crushing degradation, beating her black and blue, forcing her to bend and then forcing her to her knees, ignoring tears and screams. He had beaten her unconscious and nearly into her grave.
Finally, she freed her hands as he stumbled towards her. In a flash of fatalistic joy, she bolted, running for the gangplank, and flung her body overboard. She slipped beneath midnight waves, holding her breath with lungs near to bursting. Hiding in the breakers, silent for hours, she watched the search party relent and the ship sail away.
She washed onto shore beaten, bloody and scarred. As she laid her head on cool, damp sand and closed her eyes, she whispered, “Not broken,” and passed out, sure in the knowledge that she would die fighting before letting him break her.
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