We reached a locked door deep in the bowels of the ship. One of the men held me still as the other lifted a key from his belt, unlocking the door. Stale, smelly air wafted out from the room. The ship itself was dark, but the room was even darker. I couldn’t make out anything. The man holding me threw me inside, and I landed roughly on the floor, my breath escaping my lungs in a woof with the impact. The door shut behind me with enough force to shake the floor, and the lock clicked.

I rested on the floor for a few seconds, regaining my breath as my eyes adjusted to the low lighting. There were no windows, and the only light was cast from the cracks of the door behind me. There was shuffling ahead of me, indicating I wasn’t alone.

Praying I wasn’t about to be devoured by a wild beast, I tentatively asked, “Hello?”

There was the slightly reassuring yet also concerning sound of sniffles. Straight ahead, a high-pitched, hesitant voice called back, “H-hello?”

“Oh great, another one.” Someone else, a man off to my left, stated. “Like there aren’t enough of us down here.”

“Give it a rest, will you? You’re in the same boat as the rest of us.” A third voice responded in a rasping, deep voice. There was a ‘hmmph’ from the second person to speak and general laughter from the rest of the room.

As I picked myself up off the floor, I could make out a few vague, scattered shadows leaning against the walls ahead and on either side of me. I carefully picked my way over to an empty spot, mindful of the ship's rolling underneath me.

Once I was settled, the third one began to speak again. “I’m Manius,” said a shadow to my left, the third one to have initially spoken. From my new viewpoint, I could tell he was a boney, unhealthy-looking older man. Like an extrovert, he moved his hands in large gestures as he spoke. “The rude one over there,” He pointed at a lonely shadow leaning against the wall on my right, “won’t tell us his name, so go ahead and call him by what he is, Rude.” Rude crossed his arms at the statement, turning away. Then Manius moved on, using his entire arm to gesture at each person in turn, making it obvious who he was referring to, even in the low lighting. “Next is Aurora, Titus, and Octavia,” the shadows gave a little hand wave as Manius called their name. The Manius turned to me, looking expectantly.

“Hayden.”

“Nice to meet you, Hayden,” Manius said. Though I couldn’t see it, I could imagine the cheeky grin which crossed the older man’s sunken face. Everyone except Rude echoed the sentiment, filling the small cabin with noise.

Politely, I replied, “You too.”

Without prompting, Manius continued. “From what we’ve overheard, it’ll take two days to reach our destination. We get a piece of bread and a handful of food in the morning and at dinner, and There’s a pot in the far corner for emergencies and for any invalids. They’ll let the rest of us out four times a day to use the toilets at the head.”

I could already picture the full pot being knocked over and spilling all over the place. My stomach flipped, saliva rising in my mouth.

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My voice heavy with disgust, I asked, “How often do they empty it?”

One of the women–Octavia–snorted. “They don’t empty it. We dump it out in shifts when we’re let out to use the toilets.” The nausea curling in my gut grew more potent at the thought.

Titus piped up from where he was sitting. “If ya use it and yer not an invalid, it’s yer job. Else, it’s youngest to oldest on whose turn. Unless yer Rude, in which case we hope it spills all over ya.” There was a murmur of agreement from the others.

“Filth,” Rude responded, saying it like it was a curse word.

“That is what ya’ll be when it spills on ya.”

“That’s not what I–”

“That’s enough.” Manius intervened. There was an audible snap as Rude shut his mouth. “Rude’ll get what’s comin’ to him soon enough. Wishing it on him, however, only means you’ll share with him. ”

The arguing stopped there. For a moment, I could only hear the nauseating sound of waves cresting against the boat, gently tossing us up and down.

“...do we have many disabled individuals on board?” I couldn't stop myself from asking. It probably made me a terrible person, but I prayed not.

“Just Aurora. She’s got bum legs.” Titus explained. “‘S why she’s cryin’.”

There was a thwack and an “ow!” as she smacked him.

“Shut up. It’s not why.” Aurora mumbled, voice full of restrained tears.

“Oh yeah?” Titus challenged, “Then why are ya cryin’?”

There was another thwack as Octavia’s shadow kicked his. “It’s none of your business, so shut up.” To Aurora, she said, “You don’t have to explain to anyone. It’s none of their business.”

“You shut up,” Titus mumbled.

Rude opened his mouth again. “It’s our business if she’s being all loud about it.”

“Quiet down, children,” Manius warned. This time, there was a flurry of protest as everyone involved protested being called children. “I’m old enough to be most of your great-grandfathers; you’re all children to me.”

The mumbles died down at that, though as the closest person to him, I could hear Rude angrily mutter, “...I’m not a child….”

Then maybe stop acting like one, I thought, rolling my eyes. Though, quite honestly, a large part of me agreed with Rude. I didn’t want anything to do with the pot; the conditions and people here were disgusting. And everything here was awful compared to back home.

Gradually the ship’s base noise level began to rise as they prepared for takeoff, and soon, the rhythmic lurching of the boat grew more pronounced as we finally took off. There was no going back now. No escape. The walls around me closed in. I shut my eyes and tried to force myself to go to sleep. To not think of the bile wanting to crawl back up my throat.

It worked for a time, and the feeling receded as I was able to drift off into a light sleep. I next woke when men came down to shepherd us out to use the toilets. A faint smell in the room indicated someone had used the pot while I was sleeping. Thankfully, I slept through it. A small amount of fresh air snuck below the deck and underneath the doors, caressing our tired faces and leading us toward the light of day. Outside, the sun shone so bright it was nearly blinding, and we stumbled across the deck, off-balanced by both the lurching and the light. The sea glittered beneath us, with no land in sight.

The ‘toilets’ were simply a grate at the head of the ship and couldn’t even be called such. Upon seeing how exactly I was supposed to use the restroom, I stopped short, causing Titus to nearly run into me. Octavia, who was carrying the pot, slammed into him, the contents in the pot lurching dangerously over the edge. Titus shoved me to the side roughly, saving both of us from being covered in the contents.

Manius patted my shoulder sympathetically and said, “Be grateful we’re even allowed to use these toilets. If the mage weren’t insistent that he wouldn’t touch anyone who was covered in urine or feces, we’d all be stuck in that room without even so much as a pot to use.”

I swallowed thickly. When he phrased it like that, I was grateful we got this, at least. The deck lurched, tossing water over the side, cleaning the grate, and splashing us. Any previous incident held nothing over how much I sincerely missed home now. I swore never to take an actual toilet for granted ever again.

We were soaking wet when we crossed back over the deck. What was once a cool breeze quickly turned cold, sending shivers through our group. More miserable than I had probably ever been in my entire life, we left the sunny deck and re-entered the dark ship below.

Why, I wondered, would anyone from a modern society want to be here?