Journey of Hope

Out here, the millions of tiny lights are all that remind me it will be okay. Floating over the unending expanse of ocean, night-time is what I crave, when the inky waters are illuminated by specs of bright white, glittering over the calm waves. These lights give me far more comfort than anything, knowing that I am shrouded and protected. A star for every friend and family member, every person I’d ever spoken to or smiled at or just seen. For every person waiting for me at home, safe.

All night I look up at the sky blinking back at me, until the lights fade and die, leaving me floating in a pool of blood. Dawn kills the stars, making way for a cheery façade of azure. Scatterings of fluffy candyfloss hide the secrets of the morning, but I know the truth. I am trapped, living every day filled with inescapable loneliness, and dread that this day will be my last.

I’ve only seen his face once, but it’s a face I will never forget. Unsmiling. Icy eyes, devoid of any feeling or emotion. Cold. He sat me on a mouldy deckchair just after I first came around, when I was too weak to move or resist. And he stood there, unblinking, his eyes boring into mine. He didn’t care. At that moment, I felt hopeless. I just hoped he wouldn’t drag this out. But what must be months later, I am still here. I haven’t seen his face since the day he brought me here.

It was mid-July, and I was on holiday with friends. It was dark, we were drinking on the beach, and I had wondered off. I’d sat down by the sea, letting the water tickle my bare feet, numbing them. I was so content, gazing up at the stars, at utter peace. And then, I woke up on a boat, miles out, with nothing around other than the sea and the sky and this boat.

He brought me a bowl of plain rice every day, with a cup of water. He always came when I was fast asleep, and snuck away silently, but I’d woken often to see him slinking away, back into the main living area of the boat. I was shut on deck, with very little shelter from rain and wind, grateful for the hoodie I’d thrown over my bikini on the night I was taken.

Day after day nothing changed. I sat eating my rice, looking out to sea, and hoping to see the faintest glimmer of land. But yet again, I was surrounded solely by sea, bobbing up and down and up and down. I got up and went over to the door that led to the cabin, listening for any sound or movement even though I knew, like every day, there would be nothing.

Suddenly, the door burst open, sending my bowl of rice flying in surprise. There he stood, standing now on the top step, smiling. He looked different from what I remembered; the hair on his face and on his head was completely wild, and he looked much fatter. What he’d been eating was anyone’s guess, but he definitely wasn’t sharing it with me. Most importantly, though, his smile was not cold and menacing as it had been before, but it seemed warm and kind. Despite his shaggy appearance, he didn’t seem anywhere near as threatening as before.

“Hello”, the man said. He hadn’t spoken to me before, on that first day, just stared cruelly at me and eventually just walked away. No explanation.

I didn’t reply at first. I wasn’t even sure if I could speak anymore, since I hadn’t needed to for weeks or months on end. But he spoke again.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do what I did.” He paused, then continued, “I want to be friends.”

Shocked, I just stared. This sudden change of character had completely thrown me. He moved closer, and I began to stand further back. I had so many things I wanted to say, to ask, but I just couldn’t.

“I wasn’t thinking… and I thought I’d killed you so I took off, then you woke up, and—”

Then he stopped talking. His smile faded. Something seemed to snap inside his brain. He headed back through the door as abruptly as he’d entered. And that was it.

I slumped down onto the mouldy deckchair that was tied to the side of the boat, to stop it blowing away. In my confusion, I had not noticed until now the faint shapes far, far into the distance. I stood up, quickly moving round to the front of the deck. The sun was beginning to set, with streaks of orange and pink and crimson painting the sky. But sure enough, the faint shapes were getting stronger and clearer by the minute, and I struggled to contain my excitement at the prospect of finding land and finally escaping. Surely I’d be able to swim soon?

Brimming with fresh hope, I knew this night would bring me extra comfort and joy. Freedom was so close, finally. Until I heard the door burst open for the second time that day.

Even before I’d looked at his face, I knew he was not smiling and happy as he’d been at first earlier on. He briskly walked to where I was standing, with purpose. My flame of hope was utterly extinguished as he stopped in front of me, emotionless, cold, prepared. The dying sun still flickered gently, casting shadows across the deck of the boat. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see the sun glinting and bouncing off something in his hand. He edged closer until he had me pushed up against the white railings that ran around the side of the boat.

He opened his mouth to speak, his breath reeking of beer and tobacco, mingling with the overpowering stench of sweat and grease.

“It’s too late”, he said, “There’s no time, I have to do this now.”

We were so close to land; I could make out tiny figures darting across the shoreline like little ants. Hundreds of individuals, lives, souls. Bigger patches of glowing orange littered the beach, inviting, begging me to share their warmth. Eager to welcome me home.

I wanted to fight. He tried to grab my wrist, but he was slow from the alcohol that I managed to dodge him and move to the side slightly. At this point, though, I was completely cornered, and there was no way I could move past his immense form. I tried kicking him, scratching him, hitting him, but this only made him angry.

Something sharp slid into my arm. In and out, again and again. Into my legs, over and over, tingling and burning. And then cooling, slowing, numb. I slumped to the ground as he stepped back, unable to support my own weight.

My vision blurred. I needed to focus. The sound of the waves roaring, the boat hurled around carelessly. Two large black boots to my left, caked in mud and sand. He kneeled beside me, and I could vaguely make out the repetitive motion of his arm moving toward and away from my body.

With every ounce of energy that remained, I shifted my head to look upwards. Millions of tiny lights illuminate the sky, unfocused, but reminding me it was going to be okay. They were so bright tonight, but I focused on the brightest star, shooting across the sky. Dying, fading away, but lighting up the heavens and making way for a new soul to join its company of millions, finally home.