I felt myself rocking back and forth. Fear shook through my entire body, leaving trails of cold sweat in its path. I tried effortlessly to recall the events that led me to this place. But alas, all that came to my attention was shooting pain in the back of my neck. I must have hit it at one point in time or another. Perhaps, this time around it wasn't my own clumsiness that was the cause. I prayed silently for my own well-being and safety as I listened to the sounds around me. Fear had sewn my eyes shut, so I relied on my other senses to provide answers as to my whereabouts. I hoped familiarizing myself with the smells and echoes surrounding me would lift my spirits and calm my soul. But as I heard the heavy foot steps creak above me, followed by deep shouts, the crashing of waves on the walls, and the strong scent of stale salt and death filled my lungs, my eyes shot open.
I knew where I was. Memories flooded my brain of the previous night. I looked around to ensure that no one was watching me. I sat up from the hard, wooden shelf and found the floor with my feet. A cold sensation seeped through the white slipper I wore. I tore my foot back up from the ground fearful as to what was beneath me. Water splashed around on the surface on the floor. I shot my head around the tiny space, bars covered one entire wall, there was one port hole behind me and pieces of wood and old barrels floating around with the motion of the sea the boat rocked on top of. I watched a few rats scurried between the walls, hoping they'd inspire some sort of escape plan.
I braved the mush and wet that sat on the ships floor and gripped onto the bars. I tried to keep my balance as I looked outwards, but the pain in my neck and the now oncoming sea illness was taking over my eye sight and hearing. Nonetheless, I pushed onward, all that was in my line of sight was more barrels and a rotten staircase. I released the bars and fell back on the wooden shelf I awoke upon. I felt my eyelids gaining weight, and the room around me spinned before I slammed my eyes shut. I rested uncomfortably in between consciousness and unconsciousness. Awake just enough to hear people talking near me, but asleep enough to not be able to move or speak back.
I awoke once again, properly this time. There was no wooden shelf under me, but silky linen and soft feathery pillows. I thought for a moment in my half-awake mind, that perhaps all these leading events was just a dream. But grief tugged at the back of my eyes as I recalled the past. My stomach turned in anger. The slamming of a door snapped me out of my own emotions and back into the reality of things. I was on a ship. Possibly the ship that captured, or killed, my family. I wasn't quite sure yet, but I was going to find out.