The waves are unforgiving. As am I.
The man before me kneels with crimson wet against his lip, trickling ever slowly from the corner of his lips.
I shouldn’t be this angry—or so I tell myself—but as if the words are nothing more than a drop of rain disappearing into the endlessly crashing sea, they drown miserably, pathetically, in my fury.
Icy fingers twitch beside my cutlass, inching towards the blade I have no right in wielding— not against him.
The damp wooden boards that creak at every breath hold silently beneath my weight. Not even the crew dare to continue their ceaseless tugging of ropes and shifting of oars.
“You are dead to me,” I whisper, tilting his chin up with the tip of my boot until our eyes meet.
They don’t meet—they clash like the sweet and salty seas, warring against one another with the intensity of a hundred firing canons.
“Mercy—” he chokes, “I plead for mercy.”
My heart does not shift.
As the salty sea shall never mix with the sweet, I slip my sword from its tattered abode, drawing a line between us with the tip of the silver blade at his nose.
“Stand.”
He stands.
“Walk.”
He walks.
Like they all do. Like they all must
A captain is as good as her laws, and her laws are as good as her word, and without her word, there is no place for her in the merciless sea.
I am as merciless as the sea.
He knows it, and he knows it the best, because he knows me the best and if there is anyone I cannot disappoint it is him.
The boards creak painfully as we cross the deck. Rain quietly dots the wood with apologies, but I do not care.
I do not care because I am as merciless as the sea, and I will drown their pathetic droplets in my oceans of fury.
“Dua—”
“Do not!” I bite my tongue hard enough to have to intake a sharp breath. “Do not dare to call me a name you have no right to. If you wish to beg for life knowing it is futile, you will address me as the captain who has the authority to grant you such.”
Rain pelts against my skin, soaking the cotton of my top and striping brown strands of hair down the nape of my neck.
They clink against the golden coins of my headscarf, reminding me of the title I own, the power I hold, and the wealth I have accumulated.
I am not the prayer that once fell from his lips, nor am I the love that once plagued his dreams, nor will I ever be that scrounging, beggaring girl again.
She had lived on the merciful land that never shared with her that mercy and had died in the unforgiving sea that forgave her past in return for her unforgivable future.
“Zariya, Captain Zariya, please. Have mercy.” He pleads, and I see the fear flicker in his eyes as he backs onto the plank that bends and wobbles beneath his shaking feet.
He does not think I am strong enough. He refuses to believe I am learned enough, and that enough is reason to send another several kicks to his already bleeding face.
Instead, the thick sole of my boot rests gracefully on the edge of the plank, my blade still poised at the crooked nose of his face.
“If you wanted mercy,” I quietly impart as the rain makes him slip against the already unstable plank, “you should have stayed on land.”
And with a smile sharper than the shining edge of my cutlass, I let him fall into the tempestuous seas below, uniting him with the salty sea of his dreams.
The rain does not let up, but neither does it provide reprieve as we all hear his shocked gasps and spluttering chokes as he fights a losing battle with the salty water. I force myself to the edge of the ship, force myself to grasp the slippery wooden railing, and force myself to peer over at his writhing form dipping below the tipped waves.
The rope around his wrists is not loose enough to escape— not this time.
This time they were tied by me.
For a second our gazes crash blue and brown against one another. A raindrop briefly ripples on the water’s screaming surface as my reminder echoes in my mind.
I shouldn’t be this angry.
But there is nothing left of me if I am without it.
As Dua watches the last remnant of herself surrender to the sea, Zariya watches the droplet that forever rippled in her raging sea of fury finally drown pathetically, miserably, in the salty expanse of her heart.
She turns back to the crew that she once called family.
She sheaths the cutlass that once felt guilty by her side.
She barks orders from a mouth that once laughed with them.
For I am not the scrounging, beggaring girl whose eyes once matched the brown soil she knelt in.
I am the merciless captain of the unforgiving seas that mirror my heart, and my brown eyes reflect black in the rainy absence of the sun I once basked in.
Alisha Umar has a deep thirst for knowledge and a beautiful appreciation for learning. She spends hours pondering over her recent reads, researching for her own stories and scouring every inch of the library. When she’s not engrossed in her books or posting on her social media she can be found spending quality time with her friends and family, engaging in meaningful debates with her loved ones, taking down the next food destination on her bucket list and fantasising about which places she wants to travel to next- whether fictional or real. You can find her on TikTok, Instagram and YouTube @authoralishau.
Featured image by Christoffer Engstrom on Unsplash.
