CHAPTER 9: Failure
A half of a year passed. Seasons changed, but my situation never improved.
Sure, it didn’t get worse, but they didn’t get better, either. I was raped every night by Captain O’Doyle, and every day, I tried my best to emotionally prepare for the cycle to repeat itself. Despite his best effort, I still couldn’t conceive. He quickly put the blame on me, likely to save face, but something told me deep down that he suspected himself as the infertile one.
On one particular night, I felt a weird chill in the air. I’d never falsely purport to be an oracle or any such nonsense, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen. This left me on alert until bedtime, when it was time for me to report back to the Captain’s quarters in order to be bred again.
I entered the room, and shut the door behind me, as I often did before, but this time, something was terribly wrong. We weren’t alone. I could hear several mouths breathing, and in panic, I reached for the door knob, only to be dragged away. Thrown onto the bed, O’Doyle quickly wrestled me into the position. On my back, legs spread and my knees up, he leaned down to taunt me face to face.
“You failed me, Princess. Well, we’re going to fill you up with so much cum, you’re surely going to get pregnant soon enough. Get her, boys!” He said, standing up and stepping aside, allowing a pirate to take his place between my legs. I could hear him spitting before slamming himself into me. Several hands held me down, but I wasn’t struggling anymore. I didn’t want them to hurt me. I was tired of pain.
My only hope was to lay there, letting them rape me, one by one. My shirt was suddenly ripped open, and several hands manhandled my breasts. Someone even started to suck one of my nipples. O’Doyle laughed as he watched, enjoying the sight of my suffering.
“She hates it, boys, but I know what the bitch likes. Choke her! Go on, you’ll see! She’ll cum on your cocks if you hurt her right.”
I’ve never hated anyone more than Isiah O’Doyle, and I silently vowed then and there to get my revenge. I didn’t care if it would cost me my life, I had to make him pay for this final humiliation. I screamed as his pirates began hurting me as I was being raped, surely for their Captain’s sick amusement. I felt them biting, prodding, driving their fingers into my skin as I was being forced to mate with them, one by one.
Using me as a breeding cow, the first pirate let out a loud, horrible groan of pleasure as he came inside me. Quickly, he pulled out, and I felt him wipe his member on my thigh as if to clean it off before another body quickly took his place, and once again, I was being raped by yet another pirate. As they violently took me against my will, I was quietly thankful that I couldn’t see their faces, because if I had, they’d surely have haunted my nightmares.
The bastard on top of me cupped my breast in his hand, twisting painfully as he thrusted. I could hear O’Doyle laughing gratuitously at my suffering, clearly enjoying the spectacle in front of him. The pirate who was raping me bit my neck and ear painfully while roughing up my breasts. Bruises were clearly beginning to form on my skin as they robbed me of my last bit of dignity.
I screamed in pain, but I was again slapped into silence as the men around me mocked me. They were cruelly taunting me, calling me “nun,” mocking my sisterhood and sacred vows. Another demanded I pray while they violated me, to beg God to save me from this terrible fate that had befallen me.
I closed my slightless eyes tightly, and began to whisper a prayer. The pirate who was presently raping me had struck me again, this time in the face, all the while screaming “Louder! The Lord can’t hear you!”
This caused O’Doyle to laugh raucously as he indulged in my pain. My prayers filled the room as I recited “Ava Maria.” As I did so, I silently begged God to send me a divine miracle. Anything would do. I just needed a moment’s reprieve from this torment so that I could properly come up with a plan to get off this cursed ship.
When a cannonball struck us on our starboard side, everyone scattered out of the room and to their battle stations, the Captain included. They left me there on the bed, thanking God for that miracle He had just given me.
In my gratitude, I promised God that I’d do my best to survive this ordeal, join another sisterhood, and would continue my good works in His name. I was grateful beyond all words or understanding as I began to pull my clothing in place, and even threw on a robe over my dress, for extra measure.
Then, falling to my knees, I began to talk directly to God as if He were just another person in the room with me. Despite the maritime battle taking place outside, in this room, I was in church, confessing my sins to my Creator while seeking holy redemption for my sins. My heart poured out to Him and His glory, and for the first time since I arrived there on the Celeste, I truly felt heard.
Outside, the rumblings of war started to die down. I heard the screams of dozens of men, some familiar, others total strangers. Shortly after, there were a few moments of absolute silence; No more cannonfire. No more screams. All I could hear was the wind and waves that have been my nonstop companions this entire voyage.
There was suddenly a thunderous roar of victory, but it didn’t sound like anyone I could recognize. My prayers changed in theme from asking for freedom, to begging for safety from whoever has just taken over the Celeste.
It was then that I heard the sound of the door opening, and I held my breath in fear. I didn’t recognize the sound of the footsteps approaching me. I recoiled away from the sound, unsure of what to do or say.
A soft, warm voice soothed me the moment he began to speak: “My Lady. Don’t be alarmed. We’re not here to harm you.”
“Who are you?” I demanded in terror, wishing for nothing more than for this chaos to end.
“I’m Commander Wallace of the King’s Navy, and we’ve just taken over this pirate ship.”
I sighed in relief, a whimper of excitement escaping my quivering lips. “Are they all dead? The pirates! Did you kill them all?”
“Yes, Ma’am. You’re safe now. We’re taking the ship into royal custody to be recommissioned. Quite soon, it’ll be a part of a mighty fleet in service of the Crown.”
My entire body crumbled to the floor, and I broke down sobbing. “Thank God it’s finally over. Thank you, God, for delivering me from this evil!” The kind Commander comforted me and soon, I was off the Celeste, and being taken to the nearest harbor to be released.
At last, I was finally free.
As they boarded me on the dinghy to take me to the Commander’s vessel, I said a little prayer for the souls lost on this ship: A prayer that each and every pirate onboard would be sent to hell for what they’ve done to me. I might have been a nun by training, but I was still a woman; one violated and angry for the injustices done to her. Especially at the hands of Captain Isiah O’Doyle.
May he in particular rot in the hottest layer of perdition.
During the trip to the port, I sat quietly, thinking of my options. I had failed as a nun, and as a wife. I even failed to get pregnant when that was my only purpose. I felt as if there was nothing for me off the Celeste, but there was no life for me on her, either.
However, I made a promise to God. I was to report back to the church, get a new posting to continue my life in faithful service, and that is exactly what I did.
I was accepted back, without question, and with open arms. A local convent took me in, and instantly, I rediscovered what it felt like to have a family. Slowly, my vision began to return, rendering my memories on the Celeste as nothing more than a visionless nightmare that I simply must have dreamed up one weird and fevered night, a long time ago.
Though I didn’t believe any of that for a moment, it was that particular fantasy made life much more palpable for many, many years after these events took place.
The next chapter of my life was a gift from God himself, Surely a reward for surviving the Celeste, as well as the monsters who sailed her, no doubt. I spend the next several years tending to the poor, hungry and suffering. I prayed over the dying, and nursed the sick back to health. My mission was a long one, but I served God the very best I could, despite feeling, deep down, like the biggest failure to ever live.
I am sitting here now at a writing desk, trying to figure out how many years have passed since then, but I can’t seem to come up with a number. It all seems like a horrible blur now. It had to have been a good 30 years now, but there’s no way for me to know for sure. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long since I’ve last been out to sea, because though I live hundreds of miles in land now, I can still taste the ocean air.
Even now, I still dream of my Captain Wolf Reynauld. Mostly of the good times we had shared, but every so often, a nightmare will chill me to the bone, reminding me of the cruelty I used to face by his hand. I still struggle with hating the man I loved, and sadly, that kind of emotional confusion never seems to fade away, no matter how many years go by.
My heart loves him, my mind hates him, and I’m left somewhere in between, eternally struggling with my feelings. Some days, I pine for my Mr. Wolf, but just as often, I’m cursing his name under my breath. Even still, I can’t seem to remove the ring he laid on my finger, even after all these years.
I try not to think of O’Doyle at all. He doesn’t deserve my memories, nor the festering hate that I still carry for him. What he deserves is to be forgotten. Not just by me, but from history itself. However, my mind will not let go of the horrors I’ve suffered by that tyrant of a man. A part of me even wishes I could have had the chance to kill himself.
After all, all I’d have to do is ask God to forgive me, and my soul would have been clean. I suppose that is my biggest regret. I didn’t get my revenge. But perhaps I did? I lived so long, that two of his life spans could easily be fit into one of my own. Perhaps living and thriving is the best revenge of all.
It’s just not as satisfying.