She hears the swish of rum against the bottle as he drinks, and she's more aware than ever of the lack of salt in the air or on their skin; and she can't help but notice the gentle waves lapping the ship far more gently than the sea ever would.
This isn't right.
Steeling her nerves, she looks to shore and quietly asks, "Why haven't you told anyone what I did?"
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This isn't right.
Steeling her nerves, she looks to shore and quietly asks, "Why haven't you told anyone what I did?"