Kavo all but collapsed into a seat at the mess hall. The other crewmembers all had been served and were eating what had to have been the worst meal ever to be cooked in history. Nonetheless, the pirates seemed to make do with it, for at the very least it was still a meal, and so they ate it.
He absently ran his fingers over his boot. His hand couldn’t feel it, but he had snatched a knife from the kitchens and snuck it into his boot in the hopes that he’d be able to use it on Captain Ryk; even if he wasn’t the only pirate, he was one of the most threatening, and Kavo was certain he could win a hand-to-hand battle if Ryk wasn’t expecting it. After that, only Gwendolyn and Hawk were likely to be of any real danger, but Kavo supposed he would need to deal with that problem when and if it arose.
Kavo was motioned to sit by Ryk. He obeyed hesitantly and reluctantly; although he had been terribly disobedient so far, he realized (perhaps belatedly, and even too late) that Ryk was the captain and as such truly could dispose of him at any time he wished. Gwendolyn’s favour could not save him if the captain wanted him to die. So far, he had likely only been kept out of necessity. But eventually, his annoyance would outweigh his usefulness if he wasn’t careful. To exact revenge, he would need to follow orders at least for a short while. He would simply need to suffer through whatever Ryk chose to throw at him, if at all possible.
“Tell me, Kavo, why is it that ye ‘fuse ta obey?”
Kavo bit back many comments about how much of a disgusting and sick, perverted slug Ryk was. Instead, he said, “Did you expect me to?”
Ryk looked him up and down. “Ye seem ta be listenin’ fer now. What’ wi’ the change o’ heart?” Before Kavo responded, however, he patted the chair next to him. “Sit.”
It took him a moment to control his urges to whip out his knife then and there, but Kavo eventually obeyed, albeit reluctantly; it was difficult for him to submit without argument to anyone, let alone someone whom he hated.
Ryk didn’t wait long before he started in. His fingers were pawing across Kavo’s lap almost instantaneously after Kavo sat. Kavo honestly didn’t mean to react, but the next thing he knew, he had Ryk pinned to the table and was slamming his face against the cold, hard metal.
“Stop. Touching. Me. You. Sick. Bastard.” Each word was punctuated with a thud caused by Ryk’s face meeting the table. Kavo was going for one last (hopefully lethal) slam when strong arms roughly grabbed him and wrenched him away from his adversary, drawing him into the arms of yet another.
“If you fight,” a deep voice warned, “I will only be forced to subdue you.”
Kavo growled, but he only struggled for a moment longer before settling down. Meanwhile, Ryk pushed himself off the table and turned to shoot a very hateful glare to Kavo.
“I want him in my room tonight,” he snarled. There was no further argument or comment before he stalked off, presumably to the very place Kavo was sure would be his funeral. There was nothing he could do if Hawk was asked to watch the proceedings, or if his secret— the stashed knife— was discovered before due time. His only hope of winning would be to be alone and to take off his own boots. He didn’t see either of those as probable happenings.
Still, maybe he would get lucky. It had been a while since the Fates had smiled down on him. Perhaps they were beginning to take pity on him.
Or at the very least, he thought wryly, perhaps they would soon grow bored with making his life the most miserable and piteous thing on the planet. Where sympathy failed, maybe boredom would prevail. He didn’t care, though, how or why he could survive; he just hoped that in the end he could.
“I may not care for you,” Hawk said as he began to lead Kavo, “But I do wish that you had not done that. Ryk will not go easy on you.”
“Like he goes easy on you, you mean?” Kavo spat.
Hawk looked extremely perplexed. “I do not think I understand.”
Kavo crossed his arms. “I don’t care if you crawl into his bed every night, bu—”
“I do not. I never have.”
It was Kavo’s turn to be confused, but the confusion did not diminish his anger. “What do you mean?”
“Ryk has made his advances towards me, but I have always been in the position to refuse them. You would have been, had you not reacted so unfavourably. Now that you have angered him, however, I see very little hope.”
Kavo turned and glared. “So what, I could have just turned him down? Newsflash, dumbass: I tried that. It didn’t work.”
“I did not mean to insinuate he would have taken no for answer; rather, you would have been able to stay away otherwise. He does not order sex except in the most extreme of circumstances.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m getting raped, and it’s my own fault.”
“Yes,” Hawk said without a moment’s pause to think.
Kavo gave a somewhat resigned sigh, although the fire of loathing burned bright in his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder just who it was up there that hated me so much. Now I’m thinking maybe I hate myself. Maybe I’m just a masochist.”
Hawk gave what could only be termed as half a smirk. “In that case, I am sure that you will enjoy what he has planned for you.”
“You’re fucking hilarious,” Kavo deadpanned.
Hawk gently pushed him into a small bedroom and shut the door. Kavo decided that those were really crap last words. He supposed there was no taking them back, though.
Sighing, he sat on the bed. He had expected Ryk to be there, but instead, the room was devoid of any other life form at all. In fact, everything was almost obsessively sparse, as if the occupant enjoyed cleaning a little too much. Kavo would definitely add some colour to the place. Already he was the most colourfully diverse thing there, with his tan skin and sable hair and gray eyes. It was almost sad.
Soon, though, crimson would be added to the palette. He hummed to himself as he pulled out his knife and stuck it on the bed behind him. Seeing as Ryk was belated, things were already working out beautifully. Kavo was anticipating the night much more than he had thought he might.
A long while passed before Ryk arrived. Kavo was almost asleep, lying on the threadbare comforter in wait. He tried not to shoot up and reveal so much as a glimmer of metal behind him, but he was in an exceedingly submissive position, and Ryk was stomping toward him like an angry bear.
Apparently the time had not eased Ryk’s irritation. All the better, though, because it would hopefully lower his guard. Kavo was all for easy kills at this point.
“You,” Ryk snarled, clutching the front of Kavo’s garments. “Ye will learn how ta submit, if ye want to live.”
“I’d rather die than submit to you.”
Ryk grinned a grin that was so maniacal Kavo actually did fear for his life— and more. “Sorry ta disappoint, bu’ ye won’t be gettin’ tha’ wish.”
“Why not?” he asked somewhat hesitantly.
“Don’ tell me ye expect me ta jus’ kill ye. It ain’t gonna be that easy. Ye’ll be forced into submission firs’.”
Okay, Kavo decided, not only was Ryk insane and disgusting and perverted, but he also seemed to be a serial rapist and murderer. What had he gotten himself into?
“Now, if ye’ll lay there and behave—” Fat chance of that, Kavo thought, “—then maybe ye’ll live.”
Kavo didn’t care; Ryk wouldn’t stay alive for that long. The moment he could get to the knife without being completely obvious, he would plunge it into Ryk’s chest, and that would be the end of that. At the moment, however, the point of the blade was stuck between Kavo’s shoulder blades, and he didn’t see a way to reach it without alerting Ryk. He would have to wait a moment longer.
It was difficult, though, when Ryk started unbuttoning Kavo’s shirt. He clenched his eyes shut, tried to pretend he was somewhere else, even tried to pretend it was someone else, but nothing helped; nothing could get his mind off what Ryk wanted to do to him, and it literally made him want to hurl.
“See, easy enough, ain’t it?”
Ryk had no idea. Kavo was warring with himself to wait just a second more, to wait until Ryk wasn’t really paying attention to him, just keep waiting. He was losing the battle to his instincts, the ones that told him he was becoming a fucking girl and should just kill the bastard.
Ryk’s hands passed over his chest, and Kavo lost the fight.
He reached back and felt for the knife. Every time his fingers found the blade, Ryk would shift, and the blade would as well. He sliced his fingers open multiple times trying to take hold of the knife, and when he finally grabbed it, he felt the metal digging into and cutting his palm. Nonetheless, he gripped it tightly and took a deep breath of preparation.
Kavo whipped the knife out from behind him and plunged it deep into Ryk, wedging it between his ribs. He ignored the resistance, pushed it deep until the handle met with Ryk’s skin. Kavo let out a satisfying breath as warm wetness ran down his hand. Blood spilled, trickled down along his arm, puddled on the bed and stained the blankets. No dark colour had ever made Kavo happier than the pigment of Ryk’s blood.
Ryk choked something out, likely pleading. Even if there had been a way to save him, Kavo wouldn’t have; he wasn’t sure why Ryk would beg for it. As Ryk’s hands grappled at Kavo, Kavo twisted the knife. Ryk gave another choked noise, spraying blood from his throat. Kavo watched as the light slowly faded from his eyes and he fell limp.
He pushed Ryk’s dead weight off of him. After a moment of breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush, Kavo wrenched the knife out of Ryk, wiped it across the bed, and then sat back. He wondered how long it would take the others to realize their captain was missing in action. Perhaps he would have time to run and hide, or to destroy some evidence. Maybe he could trick them into thinking he was the one who’d been mattered and that Ryk’s absence was unrelated.
Kavo scoffed at himself. Not very likely. He couldn’t see any of the pirates being quite that daft, especially not Hawk or Gwendolyn.
Maybe he’d be lucky and they’d sympathize. Hawk had never spoken of Ryk fondly, and he and Gwendolyn didn’t appear to be on bad terms, so perhaps…
Kavo shook his head. He was officially fucked and it was his fault because he didn’t want to be fucked. How ironic. Still, he preferred it this way. With Ryk dead, he would not have to worry about unwanted advances. Of course, whatever the remaining crew would have planned for him probably wasn’t going to be pleasant, and he figured there would be times where he’d regret everything. But that was okay. Ryk was dead; life went on.
Maybe.
Hawk would probably want to kill him; Hawk had probably always rather wanted to kill him. He doubted Gwendolyn would be happy with the murder, and she had nearly shot him once just for being on deck without permission. Then again, being killed was probably the nicest thing they could do to him. He didn’t doubt that the pirates could get creative with their methods of torture and revenge.
It seemed his only option to know was to find out the hard way, but Kavo decided that being unknowledgeable in this particularly area was perfectly okay. He would make an attempt at cleaning things up, and then he’d hide. He had nowhere to run, but he could try to keep from being found until they landed somewhere. Then he could get help.
Kavo took the knife and squeezed it back into his boot; a little defence couldn’t hurt any. He stood and buttoned his shirt, trying to calculate how long it had been. Would one of the crew come to get him? How long did Ryk usually keep people in his room? He hadn’t the faintest clue, so he would have to hurry. As far as he knew, someone could arrive at any time.
He rolled the blood-stained blankets around Ryk, careful not to get blood anywhere else. The covers were thick enough that the liquid had not soaked through to the sheets, but Kavo was still covered in it, so he exercised caution. Once Ryk was contained in the bundle, Kavo edged to the wall, dragging the corpse along with him. As long as the windows hadn’t rusted shut, maybe he could wedge one open and dispose of Ryk that way. It seemed that they hung off the edge of the ship, so Ryk would fall all the way to the ground. It would be a while before they discovered who he was after the body was found, and with any luck, they were flying over an uninhabited area— or even better, the seas.
“Alright,” Kavo told himself, “Let’s do this.” He placed the heels of his palms flat beneath the edge of the window and shoved. The window didn’t budge. “Of fucking course,” he muttered. Why would anything be easy for him?
Still, he tried again. This time, it moved not even an inch with a loud, rusty scraping of metal on metal. The small victory spurred Kavo on, and he shoved harder. Finally, he wrenched it open. The smell of clean, thin air wafted in. Kavo could feel the breeze even from in there, and he was home for a moment. The moment only lasted until he remembered he had a dead body to be disposing of, and then it was gone.
He wrestled with it to get it up. It was hard to lift someone that heavy that high, but Kavo didn’t give up. When at last he had the bundle hanging out of the window, he gave a last wry smile, and pushed.
It tumbled out of the window and, presumably, to the earth.
Kavo collapsed. The adrenaline rush had faded, and he was exhausted. With many fewer pressing matters, he had no remaining nightmares plaguing him, and he fell asleep.
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