Maximus

Say hello to Maximus, my snazzy mute ex-pirate son.

First Person POV: I can still remember the day I lost everything. My mother's throat slit in front of me, my village disappearing in the flames as the rest of us were taken on board the pirate ship as captives. Sometimes, I wonder if I was lucky. While the others were chained below deck to eventually be sold, I was made a slave right there. I was given an order from the Captain (a man who cared more about his status than name). That order was to never speak, or he would slit my throat like he did to my mother. Even after watching that man die, I can't shake the presence he has had in my head. Every time I open my mouth to speak, he's there with a sharpened blade; and I remain silent. He failed, however, to make me completely docile; to make me silent. I mostly cleaned on the deck, but, in the mornings, I helped the cook, John J. Steward, prepare breakfast. . He saw me as I was, a seven-year-old child who was being worked to death and starved. He saved my life. He stood up to the Captain, vouching on behalf after I passed out from malnourishment. He made sure I was fed. He taught me basic math as I helped him keep track of our rations; and, most importantly, Cook taught me Sign Language. I can still remember how excited he was, after learning a few basic words from some traders the crew had bartered with. It started as the alphabet and about five words and increased until I was fluent in Sign. Back then I might’ve been embarrassed to admit it, but now, I see Cook as my father. We used to “talk” about our plans; we would leave the boat and the life of crime to start a restaurant on the shore. Cook was never a man for keeping his promises. Low on supplies, the crew tried to attack a well-equipped trading vessel too close to shore. Cook fought for who he claimed were his family and told me to stay below deck, to refuse to fight, that if all the pirates were captured or killed, I wouldn’t die with them. That’s exactly what happened. It was a massacre and those who survived were captured and questioned, myself included. Looking back, I really was a stubborn ass. The more the guards pushed me to speak, the less I considered it. I went through what would cause a thousand men to cry out their lungs, but I stayed silent. As I always do. It was my muteness that killed Cook. Not that I didn’t talk when being interrogated, eventually they learned from the other crewmates that I was a mute slave and a translator was brought in. No, the young princess (more of a puppet figurehead) became infatuated with my “broken-ness.” She promised me Cook’s life if I told her my life story. She lied. After hearing my tale, she decided that him enabling me with my sign language was what “broke” me. I was let go on the day the others were sent to hang, and that’s when I realized Cook wasn’t besides me. I made it to the gallows in time to see his neck snap. I screamed for him, the first and last time I had spoken in 10 years. Then I assaulted the princess and ran away. I’ve been traveling for 2 years after that. I was never able to bury Cook’s body the way he deserved. I never got to say goodbye. I’ve seen a lot of people die due to my own inability to help, and I live my life trying to repay them. I won’t die until I’ve saved more people than those who have died because of me.

Images are in chronological order