Chapter Six: Enemy Of The World

Pain. That was the only thing I felt as soon as I woke up. I wasn't relieved that I was somehow alive, I wasn't worried about where the hell I was, I wasn't even slightly concerned about how I even made it out alive. The only thing I felt was ferocity at the damn pain throbbing through my entire weary body. It was as if a million swords pierced every single inch of my body. I kept on staring down at my skin, screaming in my head that no one was tracing the tip of a sword down my arms. But it felt like someone was. It felt as if someone was not only stabbing me, but ripping my insides out slowly.

That's when I realized what was causing all of the agony. The black spot. I raised my right hand in front of my dull eyes, only to see the black spot crawling, slithering, swimming across my hand. I curled my hand into a trembling fist; sealing my eyes shut as the spot continued infecting my hand.

After another eternity of waiting, the pain stopped. I unclenched my fist and gazed upon the black spot, which had spread across my whole palm and half way up my fingers. I took in another huge breath of air, finally relaxing. Only a little bit, though; but enough to become aware that I wasn't caught in a dream.

And that I had not a single clue where I was.

I turned my head to its left. Standing there was a wall that soared into unknown heights. I frowned. Then, I swung my head to the right.

Darkness. That was all my eyes bored into. However, in the distance, a small candlelight flickered. It barely shined enough light, but I could see a small wooden desk sitting underneath it. That's when I realized that there was a door creaked open, revealing another room where the candle and desk were.

That's also when I realized that I wasn't alone.

An odious figure was curled in front of the desk, all shriveled up. The candlelight swayed again, nearly singing its hair. I couldn't see his, or her, face though. It was shrouded by long sleek hair.

I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out. Just silence.

Weak. That was what I was. I couldn't stand it, either. How did I get this way? Why was I so damn powerless?

I laid there for a few seconds. My mind searched for the answers, and they found them.

Port Ruby. The Pandora. The creepy old man. The fire. Rushing up those stairs. All of that blood…all of the smoke…all of the death.

All of those pirates.

The one shot me! God damn it, that was why I was so weak! I remembered. On the rooftop I was with the old man, just about to figure out a way to escape from the burning prison. The pirate emerged from the darkness and told me that I was wanted by the Pandora crew. That's when the scoundrel shot me, right into my open stomach also. As if that wound wasn't painful enough.

The figure twitched. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. It sunk into the darkness, vanishing into the infinite shadows. Its feet did not even pound against the floor as it ambled away into the unknown.

Perfect.

I glanced outside the door one last time before I attempted to escape. I had no idea where I was, how I was alive or who the creepy shadow figure was.

I didn't care who it was, anyways.

All I cared about was getting out…alive.

Quickly, I sat up. That was a huge mistake. Agony rippled throughout my body, tearing down every nerve in its path. I opened my mouth to cry out, but only a whisper escaped from the depths of my throat. I crashed back into the bed, wrapping my arms around my stomach. That was where the new pain coursed from.

I closed my eyes as I rolled over onto my side. It wouldn't disappear. It kept on thrashing in my stomach, slashing at my sanity. I opened up my eyes and let out a heavy breath. Sweat dripped down my face, trickling down my cheek and dropping onto the floor.

I lost my mind.

I could not even sit up! I was worthless if I couldn't even perform such a simple act. Suddenly, I grew exasperated; exasperated at Strover who arrested me, at the Pandora for attacking Port Ruby while I was there, at that one damn pirate for shooting me. At myself for being so foolish and vulnerable.

"Do not sit up, Spades."

The figure I had seen only seconds before now stood next to my bed, long shimmering hair swaying in front of my face. Its voice was so smooth, so alluring, that it immediately caught my attention. My eyes drifted upwards, scrutinizing to see who it was and what its appearance was.

"How do you know who I am?" I managed to ask, my voice trembling.

The figure bent down ever so slowly that it was hypnotizing. The way it simply moved had trapped me in some sort of trance. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was there. It was obvious that it was a woman; she had glittering blue pools for eyes, and the most ashen skin I have ever set my eyes on.

"Who doesn't know who you are?" The lady said, hands placed on her hips.

I was speechless. I hated this; not knowing why I was so famous and that every single goddamn person on this planet knew who I was. I narrowed my eyes at the lady.

"Who the hell are you?" I questioned.

The lady's lips slid up her face. "Are you not thankful for me saving your life?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions," I seethed. She was beginning to irritate me with all of the questions. It's not like they were difficult to answer.

The lady tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "You do get easily annoyed, don't you?"

"Just answer the goddamn questions!" I yelled, sitting up in the bed. Immediately, pain shot into my stomach and I bent over, a gasp escaping from my lips.

The lady's hands grasped onto my shoulders, "Spades, don't be so dimwitted! The wound on your stomach isn't healed-"

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" I hissed as I snatched her hands and tossed them away from me. She did not say one word. She just hovered over me, like a vulture, as I was suffering.

"The gunshot wound is almost healed, don't agitate it anymore." The lady told me, as if she was my mother.

"You know what's really agitating me?" I asked, looking up at the lady with a wide grin across my face. "You are."

Another shot of pain struck my stomach, and I bent over yet again as I heard the lady cackle softly to herself. "So, this is the thanks I get for saving your life?"

I snickered, "Yes, I guess it is."

There were a few moments of silence. The lady still stood before me, slim arms crossed against her chest as she watched me with those crystal eyes. Then, she spoke, "So, you really did lose your memory."

My eyes widened. I looked up at her, "What?"

"If you didn't, you would have recognized me." She spun around, flicking some of her ebony hair out of her eyes, "You would have been happy to see that I am alive."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I spat, "I don't even know who you are."

She twisted back around, eyes flaring as she hissed, "We were friends! Good friends! Please tell me you remember me!"

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what the truth was.

"You really think that I enjoy not being able to remember who I am?" I asked, leaning forward towards her. "Do you really think that?"

The lady fell silent.

I gathered up enough energy to stand. I wobbled from side to side as I clenched onto my stomach, biting my tongue not to scream out in sheer agony, "Do you really think that I am having fun running around trying to find out who the hell I am and why so many goddamn people want me dead?"

She was still silent. Once again, she was irritating me. One second, she is checking to make sure that I am okay and the next, she's spewing venom at me.

I decided not to waste anymore time. "Why did you save me?"

The lady slowly raised her head, her crystal blue eyes gazing into my emerald ones. She calmly answered, "As I said before, Spades, we were friends."

I narrowed my eyes, "Why should I believe you?" Drips of blood seeped through my shirt, and I saw the lady quickly glance down at it.

She did not answer me. Instead, she twisted her right hand around so her wrist was facing me. Then, she snatched her sleeve and dragged it downwards. Tattooed on her wrist was a black spade, exactly like the one on mine. For a few moments, I simply gazed at it. I could not believe it.

"So, Caroline," The lady began, "do you believe me now?"

I opened my mouth, but not a word reached the air. I thought that I and the man from my flashback were the only one with the tattoos. The spade tattoos were the last thing I was expecting. I could finally believe someone. I could finally trust someone.

I could finally befriend someone.

"So, Spades," The lady began, walking towards me, "why don't you lay back down so you don't rip open your wound again."

It took me a few seconds to realize she was talking to me. "Who are you?" I asked, completely ignoring her demand.

A grin crept up her face, "Desirae Vanders. Does that ring any bells?"

That name, it called out to me. It was as if I had licked the surface of it, its flavor sinking into my dry tongue. More memories rippled through my head. The lady, Desirae, was in them. A long dress hugged her petite body, accenting her narrow hips and slim figure. The rich black fabric matched her sleek her perfectly, just like the gaping night sky soaring above her. She was on a deck – the deck of a ship – leaning against the side of it with a bottle in her hand. I closed my eyes, hunching over as more memories flooded my mind. She was laughing, teeth glistening underneath the moonlight. Then, a man entered the scene, obviously drunk. He had flaming red hair which made his deep green eyes seem to pop. His mouth was contorted into some satisfying grin, and Desirae shook her head as he fell to the ground, the bottle shattering near him.

"Caroline? Caroline! Snap out of it!"

My eyes shot open. Desirae clasped onto my shoulder, her cold, sweaty hands sticking to my skin. Fear flickered through her eyes as I finally came to my senses.

"Desirae?" I questioned. It was as if I had known her my whole, entire life; everything about her suddenly surfaced from my lost and forgotten memories. I remembered that she loved the night, and would always sit outside on the deck until the Sun started to break over the horizon. I remembered that she acts like she doesn't care about anyone, but on the inside she does.

I remembered that she was one of my closest friends, whom I could trust with my life.

"Oh, Caroline," she whispered into my ear as she embraced me, "you have no idea what everyone's been through."

"Everyone?" I repeated.

She sighed, standing back up, "Sorry, I forgot that you lost your memories."

"What happened to me, Desirae?" I asked, "All I remember is waking up in the middle of an ocean and that I had no clue whatsoever of how I got there."

Desirae sat on the bed next to me and looked me straight into the eye, "Caroline, you-" she paused for a moment, taking in a breath, "-you made a deal with Davy Jones. Captain- sorry, I mean your father- was murdered and you traded your soul for his."

"I already know all of this."

Desirae tilted her head to the side, "You do?"

I nodded, "Yes, the old man told me."

"What old man?"

"The one in the prison cell with me." I explained, "We escaped together. Do you know where he is?"

Desirae looked shock, appalled, fearful. I didn't expect what she said next. "Caroline, I do not know how to tell you this, but, after the pirate shot you on the roof, he shot the old man."

A splinter of fear sliced into my heart. I stood up, doubt seizing me by my throat. "No, he could not have been shot-"

"Caroline, he died. After you were shot, you fell from the rooftop. I was in the forest by the prison, ran over and caught you. Well, I guess you could call it catching." Desirae explained, "After that, I heard a gun shot and saw the old man fall from the rooftop next." She paused, biting her cherry red lips, "I did not have the time to catch him."

I fell silent. I did not even know who he was. I did not even have the time to thank him for his assistance. Tribulation seized me. He did not deserve to be murdered by the hands of a revolting, unmerciful pirate.

Desirae sighed as she put a hand on my shoulder. "You need to get some rest."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do. We're heading to Seritty tomorrow."

That definitely caught my attention. "Seritty? Why are we leaving?"

Desirae stood up and walked to the door, "We can't stay in this village forever. Besides," she turned around, a smile across her pale face, "don't you want to find your father?"

That instantly shut me up. My father. I don't even remember what he looked like, let alone his name. My eyes dropped to the floor, "Yes, I do."

"Good. Then get some rest."

Desirae was about to close the door when I asked, "Are you sure that the old man was killed?"

Desirae nodded solemnly, "Yes, I'm positive. He died right in front of my eyes."

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Author's Note: Sorry that it took so long to update. I've been really busy with school and tennis. It's killing me that I have to come home and complete five hours of homework instead of five pages of one of my stories. Ugh.

Anyways, what did you think? Do you like Desirae? What do you think about Caroline? Do you think Caroline can trust Desirae? Thanks for all reviews!