Of expectation and disappointment.

We all know that I left my birthing place at the age of thirteen.

This was how the story began.

My father is a merchant and my mother was a scriber from a noble household, new money and old stature. It should have been a perfect balance, but it was not. Their lifestyles crashed and that led to the separation. [And for the longest time, I thought it was because of my magic marker incident. Pshaw!]

The separation did not bother me much. In my early years, it was my father and, mostly, my nanny that took care of me. You see? My mother left our hometown for the sake of education. To be honest, I think she was escaping from the lifestyle. Behind the academic high walls, she was a scholar, not a lowly merchant's wife.

In my early school years, it was the nuns who took care of me, not my parents. Thus, it came to me as a shock that although the bonds between my father and I were stronger, the parental unit assigned to me was my mother.

This is how the story goes.

My mother told me Americana is the ship of hopes and dreams. She told me that this ship will steer us to a better life. She told me that this ship will steer us to new opportunities, ones which do not exist in my hometown. Ones which my father could not offer, ones he cannot provide.

For the first time in my life, I truly agreed with my mother. Americana was the ship of hopes and dreams. Just that and nothing more, unfulfilled hopes and empty dreams.

Four years aboard the Americana, I learned the tricks and the trades: from the pirates, the whore who snug aboard – looking for the same promises my mother was looking for, from the traders and the nobles who boarded the ship.

I'm no genius, but I get by. And I learned that while it was pretty to think so, unfulfilled hopes and empty dreams get you nowhere outside of heartache hotel.

At the age of seventeen, I left Americana – and my mother – behind. I jumped ships, again and again, until I found myself on board the Praedonis.

Life on the Praedonis is fairly simple. Of course, there are certain codes of conduct: parley, pirate rules, and all that. Though, in general, we are free to do what we want with one basic rule of thumb – your rights to extend your arms end where your neighbor's nose begins. I am not the captain of the Praedonis, but I have a decent size cabin close to the captain's quarter. And when I am in my own room, I am the king of my realm. It's not a luxurious life but it's a comfortable life.

My father, in his search for me, walked aboard the Praedonis about three years ago. The trip was short but, for those few days, our path collided. I hired a cabin-boy to take care of him while I continued to do my usual pirate's business. However, I gave him as much time as I can when I am not doing the...piracy stuff.

That was easy. He was on my territory.

My father is not a powerful man, but he has his ways. On his request, The Praedonis shall be ported at my hometown for 2 weeks. The crew will be performing their standard [non-looting-related] tasks: replenishing fresh water, food supplies, gunpowder and other necessary items. Maybe the crew will visit the town's popular red light district. The usual stuff.

Not me. I am being summoned to go back to the place I left long ago. Upon midday of Friday next, I leave the Praedonis to board the ferry which will continue to travel for another 2 days to get to my home where my father will be waiting.

And this is how the story continues.

For those 2 weeks time, my faith will lie on the hands of my father. I feel like I'm back aboard the Americana – nothing but hopes.

Once there, I will be on unfamiliar territory. I do not know what will be expected of me. I do not know how much I can give to fulfill those expectations. What I know is, though - while staying on the premises of my father's wall - I will be taken care of, I will be living under his roof, under his rules, under his...expectation.

I hope I can show him that I can hold my own. I hope he would be proud of me. I hope I do not disappoint him.

We do not know how the story will end.

I am afraid. Call me a coward, I don't care. We, pirates, aren't really famous for our courage, you know? Trickery, yes. Bravery, not likely.

I wished I can stop breathing. I wish my heart would stop beating. Maybe the sky will fall and maybe the world will end. Even my mind turned treacherous. It played along and read the ferry's ticket wrong, giving me a boarding time of 12 hours behind what it should be. I would be missing the ferry if not for the unfortunate of discovering the differences in departure time.

I am panicking. Anything. Anything so that I don't have to do this.

On a scale of 1 to 10 – 1, being mildly afraid and 10, being extremely afraid – the situation has reached 13 on the fear-scale. This is Fear worst than death. Fear with the capital "F". Fear, which can rightfully be file with the rest of any other 4-letters-F words.

I am scared out of my wits.
Expectation and Disappointment...