"Tighter!"

"Tighter!" Agnes yelled to the maid behind me, pressing my organs to death. She pulled the strings even harder than before.

"No no, not tighter!" I squealed in return. The maid loosened the pressure, uncertain of which order she should obey. Agnes took a rough grip around the strings herself, shoving the maid to the side and yanked harder than ever, wishing to achieve that unhuman figure these corsets were supposed to make. I cried out loud due to the fact that my ribs were crushed and my lungs incapable of breathing. That devil of a woman tied the strings, harsh. My hold around the pole loosened, and it wasn't until now I realized how hard I've held around it. I stretched out my fingers, in pain, and leaned against the pole. Agnes pursed her small, red lips together, scanning me up and down, debating if she should break my ribs that still was remaining.

"No. Not more. It's fine now" I panted.

"It has to be more than just fine." she scolded me. "Tonight you have to be perfect". She measured me up and down again with here judgy, piercing eyes. "Or, at least as close to perfect as you can get".

I turned my back to her, facing the wall and started making faces, imitating her.

"Now get dressed" she said while turning. The big diamond earrings my father gave her rustled. "And you-" she spat, looking at the poor maid, "-make sure she doesn't loosen the corset" before slamming the big doors behind her. I let out a deep breath.

"Oh god I can't breathe" I panted. "Oh god. Dear god." I whirled around, looking the maid deep in her eyes.

"You can't make me go around like this" I begged. "This is torture. Please I beg you. This is straight-up abuse!" I strived. The maid's eyes warmed up, and she unknitted the knot my stepmother had made. Right away, my lungs started fetching for oxygen. Finally, I could breathe without having the feeling that if I took a bigger breath, I would explode. I, as a lords daughter, indeed had worn corsets a bunch of times, but even I couldn't handle the wreath of my stepmother.

"Thank you."

The carriage humped up and down due to the rough road. My corset, that still made it hard to breathe, got even more painful hence to the bumpy roads. The roads to Port Royal from Kingston were poorly made, but I didn't complain, in contrast to my halfsister.

All I could think about was the beach. The ocean. You heard me. All I ever could think of was the ocean. The waves. The saltwater. Truth is, I've never seen the ocean. Or, of course, I've seen it. I'm not incompetent or anything. I and my family would go to the beach all the time when I was younger. Then everything ended. I've forgotten the smell of salt. I've forgotten what the breeze in my face feels like, stroking my hair. I've forgotten the feeling of sand under my feet, between my toes. Considering I've lived in Kingston my whole 20 years long life, in Jamaica, people would think I've lived my life on the beach. Think I've went there every single day during my long, dull life. My 9 years old halfsister has never even spotted a small glimpse of the ocean.

But, my sister couldn't care less. She was practically made for the life we lived. She enjoyed the dresses and luxury. Since she was so young, she didn't wear corsets, and to be honest I think she would like it. Beauty is pain, right?

I, on the other hand, couldn't stand it. I felt trapped. The corsets. The big dresses. The lack of privacy. The only thing stopping me from running away, far from Kingston, was my poor father who couldn't bear to lose another woman in his life. Whenever I thought about my future, I felt a hand on my throat, pressing. I sighted. My father never allowed me outside the mansion. I sometimes left with my maid, Gloria, to go visit the marked, or to go on small walks. But ever since my mother passed away, he locked me up with barely any contact from the outside world. I never experienced having friends, at least not my age.

My mother loved the ocean. Maybe a little too much. She had sailed over the seas. She had felt the sand under her feet. The gentle breeze. It was on the sea she met my father, Jack. My father had been a sailor when he was younger. I remember her stories, and her desire to one day live on an island in a small house just by the beach. I remember her telling me how my eyes were just like the color of the sea. I've never forgotten that. Every time I looked at myself in a mirror, I looked deep into my own eyes and imagined the color of the Caribbean oceans. Her dream, is now mine. One day, I will sail a ship so far across the seas I forget where I came from, and I will live on an island far away from everyone and everything. The carriage shook, and my daydreams shattered.

"-and that's how I knew this dress was the one." Amalia ended her story. My dad hummed.

"That's my little girl." I noticed Agnes's eyes at me.

"Posture, Felice. Sit up straight, like a proper lady," she commanded me. I felt a strong desire to slap her. Right across the face. Her high eyebrows went even higher as she raised her eyebrows at me. I straightened my back, burying the urge to slap her. I despised her of all my heart. Not in the means you say you hate someone, but deep inside love them. No, I couldn't stand this woman. Her face. Her stupid beauty mark above her small painted lips. Her raspy, annoying voice. And most of all, how she managed to manipulate my father into giving her whatever she wanted. I didn't know what was worst. That, or her big blonde hair she managed to cover every room of the mansion in. I dragged my glance from her massive hair, to my father. I felt some kind of hatred against him too. Of course I loved him and I always would. He's my father after all. But he had changed after the death of my mother. And when he met Agnes, he let himself get wrapped around her long finger without showing any resistance. He was weak. My mother's death had been hard on him. I know that. But I had this feeling that he should've fought. At least for me. His daughter.

I noticed how we started to get closer to Port Royal. I listened to people talking, children laughing, and horses neighing.

"Now remember, always smile. Always say yes to a man, and try to be polite." Agnes said. Try to be polite? Please, I'm more polite than you. I looked down at my hands. They were sweaty. There was a gathering in Port Royal. Something about a promotion of an admiral or general or something like that. I, to be honest, didn't care. This was the whole reason we traveled to Port Royal. My father knew the governor of the town, Weatherby Swann. His daughter, a little younger than me, is supposed to get engaged to Admiral James Norrington. I also heard some gossip about her not wanting to marry him. When we got invited, Agnes saw a big potential in the circumstance. I was supposed to find a fit husband at this party. Of the highest class, of course. In other words, the more boring the better. And when I say 'choose' i mean marry whoever she points at. Earlier I'd heard her talking about a prince. I didn't remember which, but I absolutely think she's planning to give me away to some powerful coming king.

The carriage stopped. I assumed we had arrived at the gathering, which I was pretty glad for. My sister had been talking uninterrupted the whole ride. I closed my eyes, and a certain smell hit me. The air. It smelled... different. It couldn't set my finger on what it, until I smelled the scent of salt. Of course. I felt a smile forming on my lips. Someone from the outside the carriage opened the door and reached for my hand. I smoothed out my hideous dress, and stood up, allowing the hand of a stranger to guide me out. I soon discovered the hand belonged to a man. Only a few years older than me, with a terrible wig on his head, just like my father and any other high classed men. He didn't let go of my hand, but instead smirked, and gave my hand a long, and also somehow wet, kiss.

"Ahh, lady Bonny you must be. What a pleasure of mine" he declared. It was clear he was an important figure. I gave Agnes and father a glance. Agnes's eyes drilled into mine. The man still hadn't let go of my hand, and I felt a very strong urge to dry it off.

"Hello sir. And who do I the pleasure to meet?" I answered politely. I heard Agnes let go of her breath, which she had been holding in fear of my manners. The man let go of my hand, but let it stroke down my chin instead.

"I, my fine lady, am prince Antonio Bernardo Felip the 5th, the next in the throne of the Spanish empire" he introduced himself, clearly trying to impress me with his name and fortune. Ah, so this was the price Agnes had been talking about. Prince Antonio something something the 5th. Something like that.

"Then I guess the pleasure is mine, prince Felipe". I ignored the disgust I already felt towards him.

"Let's say we'll both get some pleasure by meeting" he suggested. No, not suggesting. More demanding. His brown eyes met mine, waiting for a response, which he didn't receive. I could practically feel Agnes's stare in my neck. "Shall we?" I gave him a small nod, which lead him to wrap his arm around my waist, leading me and my family to the gathering.