Peter

Chapter Two - Captain A. G. Hook

My nightgown rides up and my knees collide with a smooth wooden floor as the ghastly pirates throw me into a room and slam the door, muffling their crude chortles of glee. I give up and tears pour down my cheeks. Two soft hands remove my blindfold and gag, I finally see the room. The walls and floors are a polished, dark wood, and the room not only had grand glass windows (glass! Our house has glass windows, but most in London have old wooden shutters!) but it also had a large oak desk that was littered with compasses, maps and stamps. The room glowed with wealth and fortune.

To match this stunning decor, in front of me stood a tall gentleman in a royal blue coat and tall brown leather boots. He had masses of thick, tousled brunette hair and large, kind hands that held the two old rags. He had carefully crafted features and eyes the colour of algae.

"Where do you come from, girl?" His idiolect was smooth and caring, the kind you could listen to all day without annoyance.

But he called me girl, like I am a child, and I don't like that.

"Why does it matter where I've been, I'm here now." I spit at his feet. He can't be any older than seventeen.

"You're a bit gutsy, if you knew any better you'd shut your trap before I cut a little of that precious hair of yours..." His face is level with mine now, and he is terribly arrogant, but I can't help but drop my normal, girlie ways to stand up to this man who seems so... odd.

"Why should I care? I've never taking a liking to my hair." It's true, no matter how many ribbons mother tied in to it, I have never liked the muddy brown colour.

"Maybe something you'll miss, then..." I feel his eyes linger on my throat, so I swallow and tell him I'm from London.

"Ha! Don't make up places, girl! (I wince at his choice of words) I know this... London, isn't real!" He paces around the room, casually swinging his cutlass too and fro.

I am utterly stunned by his arrogance, claiming that London doesn't exist! I try to think of a place the pirates may have mentioned earlier, something this... boy would believe. "I... I know about the Strange One!" My voice finds confidence to speak up.

Instantly, his cutlass stabs the floor in surprise and his eyes lock with mine. He crouches down and grabs my chin with two of his manicured fingers. "Tell me everything!" His skin reddens, and I know I have a greater power than fear over him - curiosity.

The confidence claws it way out of my mouth into smooth language I surprise myself with my ability to convince. "Okay," His grip releases and he looks at me with such plea it's pathetic. "I will, but untie my hands and let me wash, only then I shall tell you everything." I feel his hands shake as he unties the rope that binds my wrists.  

He shouts to a girl called Bethany, who instantly appears at his side. She has masses of light, blond, curly hair that she has tried to tame with a blue bandana patterned with grimy white spots.  

She leads me into a wood panelled bathroom and leaves me to get changed into a towel. I stand by the toilet, shivering, when she enters with two large buckets of hot water which she pours into the bath. She can't be any older than me, but her glassy blue eyes are filled with pain and hardship that I shall never understand. Bethany adds some soap to the bath and disappears out the door. I slowly climb in.

Once finished I plait my clean hair over my shoulder and search for my nightgown, but someone must've took it to be washed, I guess. Pulling my towel tighter round my shoulders, I open the door. 

Laying over a purple velvet lounger is the most beautiful gown I have ever seen. I run my hand over the expertly crafted fabric and, looking both ways before I do so, snatch it into the bathroom to change.