Night Tide

Sorry for the long update, but here it is. I hope you like it. Thanks for all the reviews, I\'ll try to answer them in the future. Please remember to leave a comment and thanks. Enjoy! ^.^

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Okay, so far I think I have been a bit vague. All the mess I been talking about is in my past. Of course, the root of the tale began way before I was born, but that won’t come in till later. The boating accident was what started my adventure. Anyway, so you all know, I am not a professional writer. I am just telling you what happened and nothing else. Frankly, I have no idea why I am writing this. I guess I want someone to know this whale of a tale. Well let’s get down to business.
My home happens to be on a small chain of islands called the ‘Sapphire Islands’. They’re called that because the water surrounding the islands is as blue as it can get. The bastard settlers claiming the islands as their own then called the place Sapphire. There are six islands in all. Five are inhabited and the other one is too small to support a town. Each island is referred to as a direction. For example, the largest island is Central, while the others that support life are East, West, South, and North. The sixth island is called, Nu Syita, which means “Place of Offering” which is right next to the western island. Why it is called that I don’t know. Anyway, the islands are located off to the side of the Hawaiian Islands. Since the Sapphire Islands are so small, they are considered to be part of Hawaii. I look Hawaiian for the most part, excluding my red hair. Yes, I am a native of the Shapp (I will refer to the islands as Shapp.).
When I lived with my uncle, a boat dealer, I lived on Central Island. I have to say the man wasn’t as bad as I described. I was young, angry, and bitchy. The man just had a lot on his plate and sometimes couldn’t be there for me. However, his girlfriend is a bitch, I won’t be nice to her. In any case the man didn’t deserve the hell I must have put him through. I sometimes think if I’d been more mature that this mess wouldn’t have happened. Then again if that was the case I wouldn’t be writing this and I wouldn’t have grown up.
Okay, I messed up big time and now my ass was shipped to my dear grandparents, Grandpa Keona and Grandma Peni. My grandparents are very wealthy. They live on the western island in a town called Pineary. There are five different towns on West Shapp. Anyway my grandparents run some pineapple/ sugarcane plantation. It was strange that I didn’t ever know about them and suddenly I was going to be living with them. At the time I didn’t think it was going to be to that bad, right? Wrong. As soon as stepped on their property I was a prisoner.
My uncle didn’t know or say that my grandparents would be crazy. Stepping into their house I was separated from most of my processions, then put in some old fashion dress (complete with a suffocating corset), and told the numerous rules. I don’t remember all of them, but a few big ones were: Do not leave the property under any circumstance, do not venture outside without an escort, do not speak unless spoken to, and obey every command without question. The fruitcakes were trying to mold me into a good, old- fashioned lady. Manners, etiquette, men are superior then women, and I am nothing but property. Now to a bright, teenage girl that I was, my response to these demands were as followed, “No fucking way…” Needless to say, that’s when all my troubles began.
Disobedience was something either of my grandparents would take and I found that out the hard way. After my little remark, I was quickly slapped across the face, hard I might add, by my grandmother, who looks like a sweet old lady. I have never been hit by a parental figure before, so I was shocked. I was told sternly never to use such language, also, that I will obey the rules or a slap across the face would be the least of my worries. Well I was a teenager and teenagers do not learn their first time. It’s a good thing that humans do keep growing after adolescents or the world would be more fucked than it is now. My punishments I will get to later, right now let me explain about my new home.
Like I a said most of my things like clothes, books, cds, and junk were taken from me. The only thing I got to keep was my sand dollar necklace my mother gave me when I was little. Everything else was taken, leaving me with what my grandparents thought a young woman should have: old fashion dresses from the 15th century and classical novels and a piano. Gods did I feel like slitting my wrists and ending it there, but I am way too stubborn to commit suicide. Anyway I was home schooled (mainly in the mornings). I guess if the government didn’t require a child to have an education then my grandparents wouldn’t have bothered with modern day education. The rest of day was learning etiquette, sewing, cooking, and playing piano. Strangely enough during the time I spent there I did become good at those damn subjects. I couldn’t go anywhere but around the house. There was no T.V or computer. But worst of all I couldn’t use the one phone in the house. It was kept locked up in grandpa’s study. Once every few weeks I got to call my uncle. I would have told him how horrible things were, but my conversations were listened to. I didn’t dare talk; if I did then boiling hot water would be dripped on my tongue. I can’t describe how much that hurts. However, I fought all the way.
My smart mouth did not serve me well with my new guardians. Back- talk earned me a few good slaps to the face. Now let me tell you my grandpa and grandma are not pushovers, there were strong. A good slap from my grandpa would send me to the floor, and my grandma could hold my head in a tub of water with me struggling for several minutes. Yeah, the physical abuse was bad…and strange. One time I slapped my grandma, well that old bat gave the deadliest look I had ever seen. If I weren’t so angry at the time I would have shuddered in fear. In any case she took a death grip on my hair, hauled me upstairs, and filled a sink with water. She then proceeded to dunk my head in and hold it there. Every minute she’d pull me up to breathe all the while say “ What a wicked girl I was” and then dunk me again. I serious believed I would die. After that punishment I attempted to escape. Didn’t get far I’m afraid. Some of the workers on the plantation brought me back to the house, kicking, screaming, and regretfully begging. Needless to say my grandparents were pissed. That time grandpa did the most painful punishment. For trying to runaway, I had to walk four feet across burning coals. Now Hawaiian men do that at resorts, not fifth teen year old girls. I still have scars on my feet from the three times I had to serve that punishment. At the third time I gave up on escaping that way.
Second attempt at leaving was picking the lock to grandpa’s study to use the phone. I called the police and sound as desperate and scared as I could, which I didn’t really have to act, I was scared and desperate. After the call I hung up, left the study, and waited in my room. I knew the police would come and get me. Soon I would be free. My body had old and fresh scars on it; they would have to believe me.
I heard the police car coming down the gravel road to the main house, I heard the car door slam, and I heard the doorbell and the opening of the door. I ran down those stairs like a mad woman. I reached the front entrance, my grandpa was there and a policeman was there too. I ran to the policeman, but my grandpa caught me around the waist and held me there. Tears were streaming down my face and I was begging the policeman to take me away. He looked at me startled. On the inside I was so happy, I was going to be free. My ship had come in. However, the next moment shattered my hopes. My grandpa still having a tight grip on me just smiled at the policeman and said. “I’m sorry that my granddaughter disturbed you. We are still trying to tame her. As you can see she is still very wild”
The old, fat policeman just smiled back at my grandpa and nodded understandingly.

“I understand. Teenagers today are so wild, like animals. You have to be tough on them. I hope this one will be easier than your daughter, Keona. We do need a proper lady…” the policeman said.
I only half-way paid attention to what the policeman said at first, what caught my attention was the next thing he said, “Now young miss you should be good for your grandparents. You are lucky to be in their care, so I don’t want anymore phone calls from you. Good day, and a good day to you, Keona” and with that he left. He walked to his car without a second glance and left.
My hopes fell. I just stood there, silent, tears still coming from my eyes. There, my last hope, and it abandoned me to this hell. That episode did, however, make my grandparents mad. I was slapped, hot water on the tongue and finally the worst punishment ever. I was dragged to the basement and placed in a little storage home. It was bare, four sides of concrete and no windows. The air in it was dank and some water dripped from the ceiling. That small room was where I was thrown in. My grandpa yelled some hatful words at me and closed the door, locking it. There I was left to darkness, alone, and would remain like that for seven days. Seven days left in a small, horrible room with no sound or light, just my miserable thoughts and me. Small amount of food and water was left to me, enough to keep me alive. However, something did die in that room, me. Maybe not physically, but mentally I died. I had lost the battle and would sulk in my pathetic self-pity for two years. Thankfully, the war hadn’t ended. Somewhere inside on me, was my old bad-assed self, waiting to make the final attack. But its command to come out from hiding would take two years and a phone call, but it did happen.

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Hoped you liked it.