Disclaimor: Anything which pertains to the movie belongs to Disney


Rescued

I hated my life, I absolutely loathed it and I wanted it to end.

My best friend Will Turner had left when I was eleven and he thirteen to search for his father on the seas. So I was left alone with my sickly mother and abusive father. Now that Will was gone I had to take care of my injuries and comfort myself after my father would beat me and I had no one to talk to about my dreams of escaping this place and traveling the high seas. Shortly after Will's departure, my father decided to move us to an island called Tortuga. This island had a very appalling reputation. When we had arrived there I could tell at once that it truly lived up to its name. The place was teeming with drunken men, whores filled the streets and taverns and gunshots could be heard 24 hours a day.

It seems that my mother's condition worsened after the move and she stayed in bed and slept most of the time. The rare times she was awake she would just sob and moan incomprehensible things at my father. I became very independent for a young girl escaping the house when I could and finding small jobs for money and so when she died when I was sixteen, I wasn't as upset as a normal daughter should be, but I guess I wasn't normal. After she died my father began getting ideas. Even though I already worked in one of the filthy taverns as a barmaid (definitely not the job of my choice), he told me that I should become a whore to make us some more money. Us, yeah right, he used more than half of our money to get drunk. I refused to lower myself to the lowly level of a whore. So my father beat me worse than ever before. He struck me in the face which he seldom did for he knew that others would notice the marks it left, I could feel a cut on my forehead bleeding. He then found his club and battered me with that and after a few blows from it I was completely powerless. I was on the verge of losing consciousness and part of me hoping for death when with the last ounce of strength I had left, I swung my fist in to his face and he fell over, out cold. I was lucky that he had been drinking because I'm pretty sure that under normal circumstances it would have taken more than one blow to knock him out.

Despite the condition I was in, I knew I couldn't stay there. I stumbled out of our small shack and half crawled half staggered towards the docks. It was late in to the night and I knew that no one would be out to help me and I knew of no one who would. When I made it to the very edge of the dock I stood up unsteadily. I stared down at the dark water it seemed sinister in the dark and yet almost inviting. I was going to throw myself in; I was going to end the disaster of my life. I closed my eyes and let my body go limp, waiting for the ocean depths to consume me, but it never came. Someone had grabbed my waist and pulled me from the edge. I fell against my rescuers chest. I could feel the strong muscular arms surrounding me. I desperately wanted to sleep, but I looked up when I caught the strong scent of rum fearing that it might be my father, (but father was much fatter than this man.) He was sporting a very worn tri corner hat over his brown dreadlocks and he had kohl under his warm chocolate eyes. (Ah, I loved his eyes.) He also had a mustache and a small braided beard and regardless of the puzzled looked on his face, he was quite handsome.

"You don't want to be doing that luv, drowning is not a pleasant sensation." He said with a grin, his words slurred slightly.

I almost grinned back, but I began to feel dizzy and I knew I was going to black out in a moment.

"Help," I croaked. Then I collapsed against him.