I couldn't sleep that night. For whatever reason, my mind wouldn't settle down. It thought of every possible thing. Over and over again, Mae died. Over and over again, my father sentenced me to death. Over and over again, Dennis looked at me, his eyes sparkling, and told me I was pretty.
I must have drifted off because I woke to a scream. I immediately jumped up out of my sleeping bag and ran towards the ship, where the scream had come from. Only a few had woken up.
I clambered onto the ship. There, on the deck, stood James with something in his hand. Someone lay at his feet. I ran forward and turned the person over. It was a boy from the Needle, clutching his stomach, which was bleeding.
I looked up at James. His hands were covered in blood and in his hand was a silver knife. He was trembling.
I looked back to the boy as Nathan and Julia tackled James and pinned him to the deck.
"Get a healer!" I screamed. Someone jumped off the boat back towards shore. I looked back to the boy.
"You're going to be alright," I told him. He was coughing and trembling. He clutched my arm.
"I'm scared," he managed to choke out. "I don't want to die."
"You'll be fine," I said, my voice trembling with fear.
"It wasn't..." He coughed again. "It...wasn't..." He trailed off. "He..."
"He what?" I asked, a tear slipping down my cheek. I knew what had happened. He was gone. I backed up slowly from his now lifeless body, trembling. I looked down at my bloody hands but my eyes wouldn't focus. No one spoke to me. I couldn't see anything but my hands.
Forever later, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked up. It was Nathan.
"Charlotte, you have blood on your hands. Let's get you washed off."
I didn't argue as he pulled me up and managed to get me off the ship. He took me down the shore and had me wash my hands.
"Thanks," I managed after a while.
"It's really bothersome to be helping you, you know," he said.
There he was, back to normal. It cleared my head a little.
"You didn't have to help me. I'm perfectly capable."
"You were crying on the deck, staring at your hands," he said. "Do you call that capable?"
"Tch." I finished scrubbing my hands and sat back. "I didn't even know his name," I whispered.
"Jacob," he said. "Age sixteen. Broad blade sword. He was a good friend of Nathaniel's."
I paused to see if he would say anything else.
"Let's go," he said with finality. There would be no questions asked.
I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.