**English version of the WATTYS 2019 WINNER story**
1672, Caribbean Sea.
He lost everything for her. She risked everything for him.
But maybe love is not enough to bridge over so many deep differences between them, and the only way for them is goodb...
The brigantine set sail to the west, across the Gulf of Campeche toward Veracruz.
Segovia lingered on the bridge, with the ship's captain. He was looking forward to going back to his prisoners, one at a time, but he couldn't make up his mind about who he'd visit first. He was sure he'd left the pirate bitch for last, to ride her in front of Castillano. He thought of Dolores, locked up in the cabin. He would need some appetizer before going for her.
That meant the traitor came first.
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Marina sat at a corner of the locker and covered her ears, but even so she heard the beating and flogging, and Castillano's grunts that turned into weakening groans. She shut her eyes tightly, clenching her teeth.
She would've wanted to feel fear, pain, desperation, anguish. Anything but the anger that kept growing inside her. Her resentment against Castillano after Wan Claup's death was a tantrum compared to what she was feeling. Even her fury only a while earlier, when she'd seen Castillano's friend and his rapist officers, was nothing in the face of the bleak beast corroding her guts.
She hated them.
So badly.
She hated them all.
Rabid dogs, like she'd said the night before to the damn fool that kept groaning outside the locker door.
Dammed rabid dogs all of them.
She hid her face in her hands not to feel the burning angry tears she couldn't fight back.
She wanted to sweep them all out of her way.
She wanted to kill them all.
But before that, she wanted to make them suffer.
Like she'd suffered.
Like they wanted to make her suffer. Still. Again. Always.
Because violence against those weaker than them was the only thing that made them feel alive.
She could only pray Morris would rescue her soon, because she feared who might walk out of that locker to take command of the Phantom. She feared what she might do. And most of all, she feared what she wouldn't be able to feel anymore. What had always breathed in her most inner nature and what her mother had taught her since she was but a toddler.
Her anger laughed at what her heart cherished. It rived her heart apart like a vulture, feeding on her capacity for kindness, mercy, tolerance, understanding. But mostly on her capacity to love.
Finally Segovia got bored of beating and flogging Castillano. Or the famous Lion had passed out, and that was why he was no longer whining like a baby.
But by then, Marina couldn't care less.
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