Edited! I hope you enjoy it!

~Yoyo

Circus Pirates - Part 1

My name is Isabella Bailey and I am running away.

I have lived with my brother from age nine here at the Inn. He worked as busboy for years until he was allowed to serve behind the bar. Once I turned twelve, I was put to work as barmaid at night and waitress during the day. I am nineteen now, and he is twenty-six.

James has always been mean to me. I didn’t mind the threats and the beating. But what did make me finally leave was when he had tried to sell me as a prostitute. He told me one day that he had earned enough to buy me my own room across the hall from the room we shared now. But the night I moved my few belongings into the room, there was a man waiting for me, standing by the window.

He was big, unshaven, and very foul. I dropped my bundle of things on the floor and I heard my mother’s small porcelain vase shatter when he literally picked me up and kissed me. He then half carried and half dragged me across the room over to the bed where he threw me down violently. He began struggling to get his pants off and I took the opportunity to grab the brass candlestick off the nightstand and promptly proceeded to knock him out with it. He fell with a thud to the floor, his pants halfway down around his knees.

I went across the hall to where James was. I marched up to him and slapped him across the face. He shouted at me.

“What are you doing out of that room, Isabella Katherine Bailey?” he spat, his face turning a bright angry red. He dragged me back into the room and upon seeing his “customer” out cold, proceeded to beat me.

In between blows, I managed to say, “I… am not… your prostitute!”

When I awoke, it was pitch dark outside, and the inn was silent. I picked up my bruised and sore body and found my bundle of belongings still spilled on the floor near the door. I picked up my hair comb, which had been kicked across the room at some point. I left the useless, shattered pieces of my vase on the floor and I replaced the comb with the rest of my belongings. I then re-wrapped my bundle in the cloth and leather pouch, and I snuck out of the inn and I never looked back.

I was foolish for thinking I could make it across. But I was so desperate to get away; I was willing to change my plans somewhat. I had found a rowboat on the shore by the docks, and I had taken it.

The moon was high overhead when I first saw its grungy grey sails ahead of me near the horizon. It looked to be a safe merchant ship. I just hoped it wasn’t overrun by pirates or worse ghosts. I kept rowing, taking small breaks to get a sip from my canteen before realigning myself with the stars and rowing onwards.

I knew a little bit of navigating, having lived near a seaport all my life. But I still wasn’t quite sure if I was going in the right direction, let alone, where I was trying to go. I had finally made up my mind to cross with the ship ahead of me and see if they could help.

I could now see there were people on board and they had obviously spotted me. Arms were pointing and waving. I stood in my little rowboat and waved my arms at them, signaling help. This was hard to do with the waves being so large in the ocean in comparison to my tiny boat. A large wave slapped the side of my boat, sending me into the cold water unexpectedly. I hit my head on the latent oar floating in the water and blacked out for a second. I soon resurfaced for air, and being a decent swimmer, I slowly paddled my way towards the ship. I heard shouts of alarm from the merchant ship and I saw a figure dive into the water before the weight of my skirts dragged me under. I began wrestling my boots off underwater. I got one off and kicked fiercely to the surface to gasp for air. I sunk under again and got my other boot off.

As I came up for air again, I saw a man swimming a few feet away from me. I began ripping at my heavy skirts when I felt a pair of hands grab me and pulled me towards the surface. I wrestled in his grip

We sputtered to the surface and he shouted, “Are you alright?”

“My skirts!” I spat, still wrestling to get out of them. He let go of me and dove underwater. I felt something hard on my hip and I soon felt my skirts fall away under the waves. The man reemerged holding a knife and I gasped but clung to him anyways. We both swam back to the ship and climbed up the ladder that was lowered down the sides and I promptly fainted on the boat deck.

I must have been out for only a minute or so, because when I opened my eyes, hovering above me were many faces.

“Are you hurt?” I heard two voices ask me simultaneously.

“Huh? Uh, no,” I said, attempting to sit up. Arms pushed me back down.

“Whoa there, hon,” a husky female voice said. “You rest there; Harry said you hit your head with your little fall there.”

“No, I’m okay,” I mumbled. Then realizing where I was again, I immediately bolted upward, shouting, “Don’t hurt me! I can work!” I stood up on my own, dizzily.

The crowd of people backed away slowly, their eyes were wide. The sunlight of early morning was just beginning to tint the sails gold. A handsome man approached me. “We aren’t going to hurt you. And if you want to work, that can be arranges. Just put the knife down.” I looked at him. Knife? I thought. I looked down and in my hand, I viciously held the knife out that the man, my rescuer had used to cut off my skirts. I immediately dropped the knife, shocked. It clattered to the deck and the man bent to return it to its sheath in his boot.

Arms reached around me from behind and wrapped me in a blanket. Suddenly realizing how exhausted I was, I allowed myself to be led to a bunk where I slept.

*Here is Part 2! *