She sat on the sofa and studied her hands, tracing the ridges and wrinkles with her fingers, closing and opening them into fists. She looked to the wall, the false books, and to the ceiling, looking for an answer to an unknown question.

Then, summarily, she got up, and for the first time in weeks went up to the deck.

The pirates were standing around a burlap sack, praying in their own languages. Horrified, she approached the bag, understanding that it held Otis. The air was cool, and the sea turned fiery red as the sun began to set. Two men, whom she recognized as Milo and Alaric, looked at the Captain. He nodded solemnly, and they picked up the sack and threw it overboard. After a moment she heard a loud splash and the sailors raised their cups in a unified “huzzar”, pouring the liquid down their throats and making merry.

She felt an overbearing tightness in her chest. She needed to get away from this barbaric ritual; she needed to get away from the people and the drunken noises that cut through the night. As if in a trance, Alice stumbled back to the cabin, only to be cornered by none other than Mr. Brody.

A hiccup escaped his throat, and he smelled heavily of alcohol, as if he had been drinking before the burial even began, “You came up here to apologize for last time, sweetie?” he slurred his words, placing a hand on the wall and blocking Alice’s path. She ducked under his arm, intent on making a beeline for the cabin, but her grabbed her shoulder, roughly. Pulling her close to his body, he said, “Come on, sweetie, just give me a taste.”

Alice bit him. Alice bit him until she felt the salty taste of blood. “You bitch!” he shouted throwing her to the ground. “I’ll make you pay!” he said, loosening his pants and moving toward her.

Just then, a big man stepped between Mr. Brody and Alice. “Get out of my way!” he said as he staggered toward her. The huge man forcibly shoved him away. Mr. Brody flew through the air like a rag-doll, crashing down on his bum with a loud "thud."

“Stay away from her,” the giant commanded. Mr. Brody looked at him, his face twisted into a sour scowl.

Finally he started getting up, “If you want her all to yourself, fine by me. She’s a frigid bitch anyway,” and with that he slinked off into the night, bottle in hand.

The giant man turned around, offering Alice his hand. She looked up at his face, realizing it was Brutus that had come to her rescue. He helped her up, and she curtsied.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Brutus grunted in response. Then he wandered off to join the rest of the crew, who were lighting firecrackers and sending them off the ships bow.

Once again, Alice returned to the cabin. Looking around the room, she understood nothing had changed. The desk was still where it was, the bookshelf with the fake novels remained unmoved, and the lines on her hands were etched in stone. Nothing had changed, except for her dear friend (and she could finally admit he was a friend) Otis dying. He had done nothing wrong, yet his wife rejected him, leaving him without the joy of raising his child, and forcing him to turn to this hard pirate life.

She clenched fists in anger, pounding the wall. Its unfair, she thought, her eyelashes wet, her vision blurred. She wanted this to be a nightmare to be over, she wanted Otis to be alive, she wanted the ship to disappear, the pirates to be gone, and her life to return to normal. Alice squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them everything remained the same. With rivers rolling down her cheeks, she wondered for whom it was that she was actually crying for.