I rest my head against the back of the cell wall, noticing all the bugs latching onto the ceiling of the jail. One of the spiders has caught at least five bugs in the past hour--or however long I've been in here.

My only possible way of tracking time is watching the shadow from the window slowly move across the cold floor, but I was never one to pay enough attention in boy scouts. The shadow has moved an inch or two, and a vague memory of 11 year old me tries to break through the surface, but it can't, no matter how hard I will it to.

There are a lot of things that I wish I could remember from back then. Maybe it would have prevented me from being here right now.

The exhilaration from stealing a car was beyond description. I loved practicing on my friend's beat up Camry, knowing that I'd be able to put those skills to use. My fingers twitch as I recall how it felt to open the car door and start the car without a key. My long hair seems to ache, yearning to again have the wind blow between the strands as I speed down the highway.

But the excitement only lasted so long.

Seeing the blue and red lights chasing after me was a wake-up call; suddenly the exhilaration wasn't worth it.

The very low-quality bed squeaks underneath me as I adjust my position for the hundredth time, trying to fluff up the increasingly flat pillows (which is impossible). 

The shadow on the floor continues to slowly creep towards me until it covers everything. 

A creaking sound suddenly explodes in the room, jolting me from my nonsensical thoughts. I wait impatiently as someone's footsteps reverberate against the stone walls.

Sheriff Deere told me she'd see me in the morning, and my family doesn't care enough to pick up the phone when I call them anymore, let alone come see me in a holding cell.

Who's coming in here?

Eventually the figure walks into my vision. Something about their bowlegged stance and their smell of seafood reminds me of a time when I almost devoted myself entirely to the sea. For a time, being on the water was all that mattered. I spent hours fishing or just sailing because that was what made me happy. I wonder where I'd be today if I had had the courage to say yes to that captain's offer to hire me on his crew.

The person doesn't say anything for a time, taking to hiding behind the shadow. My eyes run over their outline endlessly, memorizing it and realizing that it is more familiar than I expected. Even still, I don't know who it is.

"Who are you?" I ask cautiously. My dry throat causes a cough to rise out of me as I speak. I have to repeat myself three times to be understood.

"Who you were meant to be." The voice is masculine, and it again lures a familiarity out of me.

Any possible reply I have gets halted in my shock. Who I was meant to be? 

He takes a small step forward, but even though my eyes have mostly adjusted to the darkness, I can't make out his face beyond that fact that it is structured squarely.

"You had a choice, mate," he says again. A smirk is vocalized through his words; he must find my silence amusing in some way.

"What are you talking about?"

His feet move forward another inch or so, and I never stop analyzing everything he does.

"Think back," he pauses, as if he thinks I'm incapable of such a simple task. "Think back to five years ago."

His voice allures me. It's a sailor's voice, that much is obvious. I rack my brain trying to determine where I've heard him before, because I know that I have. But it sounds different from whatever memory it's in.

"Mate," his loud voice calls. "Are you even listening to me, or are you so hyped up on exhilaration that you can't focus through one conversation?"

"Exhilaration? Man, my exhilaration died out the second I heard the sirens."

He appraises me silently. His stance widens, and he crosses his arms.

I want to ask him to take a step forward, but I have a feeling that he won't do anything I say.

"Listen, mate. I'll speak slowly so you can understand me. Five years ago. You had a choice. You picked wrong. Ring a bell?"

Irritation spikes through me. "I'm not incompetent, mate."

Suddenly, he rushes forward and throws his hands against the metal bars. "You don't have the right, the experience, to call me that!"

Then just as quickly, he retreats into the shadows and leans against the wall so he can cross his ankles. 

"Answer my question."

After a few haggard breaths, I return, "You're referring to my decision to stay on land."

The stranger slowly claps his hands. "Congrats, you remembered. I half feared you had forgotten all about it."

"And what do you know?" I demand. "I don't know who you are, sir. I don't why you know about a choice I didn't make. Who are you?"

He clicks his tongue a few times and shakes his head. "If I'm not mistaken, I already answered that, mate."

I throw my hands up, finally getting to my feet. "Fine. Whatever. If you won't tell me who you are, tell me why you're here."

He tilts his head to both sides, cracking his neck. "I'm not here because I want to be here, mate. I was given no other option."

"Just tell me!" I command, approaching the bars of the cell. "Because I'm tired of you wasting my time."

Chuckling, he asks, "Oh, you have somewhere else to be? Because from what I see, you have all the time in the world."

I glare at his head, straining my eyes to try to see features of his face. No result.

"I'm here for your sake, mate. Trust me."

"Will you just--"

He raises his hand, and for some reason I stop in my tracks. 

"Listen, mate. You have the same choice now as you did back then. You should have chosen to board that boat, sailing off with Captain Likarre and his crew. If you had, neither of us would be here right now."

"And how would you know?"

He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. But I can feel his eyes darting all over the room.

Then he steps forward. Close enough that I can see that his eyes are the exact same shade of brown as mine. Slightly shocked, I scan the rest of his face.

Is he... me?

His hands rest on the lock on the door, expertly unlocking it within seconds.

"If you want to find out who I am, exactly, then come with me."

With a flourish, he swings the door open.

I step out.