π¬
Something about the atmosphere of the girls' bunks had lent itself to sharing secrets in the dark, where one could be less easily identified, and therefore speak far more freely. Whispered confessions had been tossed out into the darkness for several long minutes now, ranging from silly things to true confessionals. Kate was barely paying attention, in truth; she'd had a bit too much to drink at dinner, and a bit too little food, and was feeling the rocking of the moored ship as thoroughly as if she was still out to sea.
She was rather sure it had been Miss Vane who had been the one to ask if she was alright, but it could have been anyone, really, and it was that thought ββ a nameless, faceless, beautiful woman in the dark, listening to her confessional like a Catholic Saint ββ that truly loosened her tongue.
"I'm so lonely," she whispered into the dark. "Iββ I spent my whole childhood loving my sisters and yet still wishing they would leave so that I might learn who I was without them. And now they're gone, and our house is so quiet that every noise makes me nervous and I...still don't know who I am," she murmured, more to herself than to the woman who had asked. "I thought I'd be someone by now, but I just feel like an echo of something that was screamed a hundred years ago."













