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As I sailed here, I plotted all of the ways I’d make Captain Hook scream. But now that I’m standing in front of him, a scream doesn’t seem quite as satisfying as a moan.
We are a dichotomy, the Captain and I. He wants to forget who he is and I am afraid I might not remember who I was.
And yet some days I am aware that I am driven mostly by fear. Fear of who I am. Fear of who I’m not. Fear of what happens when I face myself in the mirror. To be bold is to be truthful and I am built of lies.
