DISCLAIMER: I am not the creator of Pirates of the Caribbean, nor it's original characters, and so on and so forth. Sandra is mine though. Read on and enjoy, maties!

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Sandra looked longingly out of the tiny window in her room, wishing she could be anywhere but where she was. She had no way of knowing exactly what time it was, but she knew it had to be quite late. Possibly even near sunrise.

And he hadn't left yet.

Her latest client had stumbled through the Inn doors in a drunken stupor, demanding food and ale. After he got that, he demanded her as well.

It was these clients she hated—the ones so drunk and mean that they barely paid her any attention. They did what they wanted with her, and usually left shortly afterward. It was when she was with these men that she hated her mother the most. Sandra hated her for dying, and leaving her to make a living the only way she knew she could.

But she did it for me. Why should I feel ashamed that I have to do it for myself now? Sandra immediately felt her cheeks heat up, ashamed for thinking such things about her deceased mother. Her mother wouldn't have done this, had she any other choice. But what other options did a young girl have in Tortuga?

She heard her client stir, and grumble—a few signals of awakening she had learned over the past couple of years. He would wake soon, and leave, which was all well and good with her. She feigned sleep as he gathered his clothing and left, without any sympathy for the sleeping girl in the bed.

Sandra sighed with relief, and gathered the blankets around her shoulders as she curled up in the bed. That man, in his drunken state last night, had paid her well, thanks to some clever deceiving on her part. He paid her a generous sum at the beginning of the night, and when they were finished, she took advantage of his sluggish brain by insinuating that he had not yet paid. So he paid again.

She did some quick adding in her head, and decided that she had saved just enough to purchase all of the supplies she would need, plus some extra for an emergency. Thinking about her long-anticipated plans made sleeping nearly impossible, so she climbed out of bed and got dressed for the day. Hopefully it was the last time she would have to don the distasteful dresses with their tight bodices and low, plunging necklines. Maybe after today, she could wear trousers—they would be much more comfortable, not to mention practical for where she was going.

She opened her clothes-chest and dug out the letter. It was creased, and worn, as if it had been unfolded, read, and refolded many times.

To Captain Jack Sparrow,

Long ago you sailed with William Turner. As a favor to his memory, I beg you to take my child, Sandra under your wing. My lifestyle is not suited for raising children. Despite your reputation, I know my daughter will be safe with you.

With the deepest gratitude,

Annabel

She felt the hot tears in her eyes, and put the letter away before she started crying. Her mother had written this letter years ago. Sandra was only fourteen, and her mother had planned on sending her away then.

After her mother died, Sandra didn't know what to do, except the same thing every other young girl with no family did. The same thing her mother had done.

She only recently found this letter. It was amidst a few things her mother left her. Until recently, she was unable to bring herself to look through them because it was too painful. She was glad she finally did because, for the first time, she felt the stirrings of hope. Hope, that she didn't have to live like this forever. Hope, that there was more in the world for her.

The sun was starting to rise, and she straightened herself up to get ready for the last day at the Inn, for the Black Pearl was due in Tortuga soon…