Mrs Peregrine

The boat rocked gently, and the sea's gently motion was a reminder of your weak, frail body. You could still taste the metallic flavor against your tongue you had grown used to with the salty sea air clinging to your lungs. The cancer was worse now, spreading through your lungs, and without Mrs. Peregrine's powers to slow it. You were laying in one of the many rooms of the once-sunk ship doing nothing, as you can't do anything to begin with. You were weak and fragile even, but yet you hated that feeling of being weak. You felt like a burden, a waste of air, which you absolutely hated. You hated the fact that everyone keeps giving you sympathy because of your disease you have no control over.