I have had enough. Watched him stagger down the gangway, headed for the nearest brothel to spend himself between some strumpet's thighs too many times. I've tried not to show how much it bothers me when he comes back, face smeared with rouge, reeking of cheap perfume and cheaper whore.

I see the way he looks at me, leering openly. He does it when we're alone, too, when he thinks I'm not watching.

He's mine and I won't wait any longer for him to come and claim me. Tonight I'm taking what I want, just like Jack's always taught me.