"What've you done?" Sarah Sparrow whispered, staring in blank shock at her father, standing over the body of the man who had taken his place for so many years.
"Nothing! I didn't…It's not…Circumstances being what they were…He left me no choice!" Jack tried to explain, but to no avail. In they eyes of his daughter, her father had just been murdered. In her eyes of his daughter, an old family friend had just orphaned her. In her eyes…
"I hate you," Sarah whispered, eyes filling with tears. "I hate you…" She began to turn, to flee, but Jack caught her by the arm just in time.
"Sarah, love, please listen to me. I have so much I need to tell you, so much you need to know…"
"I heard it all, I heard enough!" she screamed, fighting against her father with all her strength. Jack shook his head at her words, knowing that the two phrases were by no means synonyms. What she may have heard was certainly not all she needed to hear. Not even close.
"Give your father one more chance," he begged. Had she known him better, Sarah would have not been able to doubt his love for her. Captain Jack Sparrow did not beg. Now, however, he hoped his plea would changer her mind, even slightly.
The look in her eyes, however, told him otherwise. Along with his nose, she carried her father's stubbornness.
"My father," she spat, knowing the truth full well, "is dead. He lay dead but a few feet from his daughter, the daughter you orphaned!"
"I did not orphan you!" Jack fought back, hating the way her words, her denial, tasted in his mouth. "I'm your father, Sarah, please! Please, just let me be your father…" He had lost track of his argument. He was intoxicated with love for his daughter.
"So I am to believe," Sarah asked slowly, wrenching herself from his grasp, "that you are my father? That I am not William Turner's child, as I've been made to believe for sixteen years?"
Slightly stunned by her sudden change in disposition, Jack just nodded. "Erm…yes. That'd be lovely, actually."
"Well I'm afraid I can't do that, Mate." Before he knew what was happening, William Turner's blade was once again positioned against his throat, and a sinister smile was dancing across his daughter's lips.
AN-I'm sorry for A) Not posting for a while, and B) Keeping the chapters so short. The story is done, however, so I'll be posting the remainder of the chapters by the end of the night.
Carry on!
