Welcome to Chapter 1 of the fanfic, or of Elizabeth's story if you just want to read hers. :o

If you don't want to read something with a lot of emotion and crud then I suggest you don't read this. xP I'm a sucker for tears.

So whoo.

Let's begin.

Important Stuff xP

Dedication: I dedicate this to all of my friends in BmtH and on the Neopets roleplaying boards. :) You've all helped me grow so much even if you never see this fanfic.

Special Thanks To: Jordan for proof-reading this for me and providing moral support. :)

Warning: Hints of slash. Maybe not in this chapter but in future chapters (however not with any of the characters I'm going to consider main in my story). If you don't like it, deal with it... it's only a sentence or two... but I MAY write a whole chapter centering around a new couple I support xP Rating is for safety, I may add some violence or whatever, who knows. What I think is violent and what you may think is violent could be two totallyyyyy different things.

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC O.o No matter how much I wish I did.

Now on with the fanfic.

The Letter

Chapter 1: Broken

Locked in her room. Again. Every night ended as such: being pushed in and locked in a bedroom until dawn was well upon the island. But Elizabeth didn't even resist anymore, deciding that being locked up was far better than having to spend a night with Lord Beckett.

She sat at the window, drumming smooth fingertips absentmindedly on the sill as she sat there thinking. The only light in the room was that of the full silver moon resting outside in the distance, allowing her to see past the docks once her eyes adjusted.

She sighed as a shiver went down her spine, a merciless breeze blowing in from the wide open window. On nights like this when the moon was generous she'd often sneak out to various places in Port Royal, and several times she was able to get away with it, too. She had even dared to become a stowaway on a ship that left the port to Tortuga... but she was found and, of course, punished. And now every night several guards waited far beneath the window, begging for her to dare such an escape attempt again.

She brushed a strand of dark blond hair from her dark brown eyes as they longingly scanned the seas, filled with false hope that Will would come sailing in any day now to come save her. It was a hope that had kept her living through these hard times... not that it changed the fact that she'd been living a long two years there with Beckett.

But what bothered her now was the location of her letter. It had been about three days since she had written it and delivered it. With any luck he would have received it by now. She had sent it with the final man she could trust in Port Royal- a family friend- who had claimed to know where to find her ex-fiancé. She sighed deeply, running her fingers along one of the folds on her nightgown.

London. That's where Will supposedly was. With any luck he'd be right and Will would soon be on the run. Though it was surprising to her that Beckett hadn't questioned her about his whereabouts, she was sure that it'd be coming any day. What could she do?

She let her eyes droop as she sat further back in the chair, allowing her hands to retreat to its armrests. She breathed in and out slowly, ignoring the prickling pain on her forearm and the small flow of crimson that trailed down from it. Would she have to endure such torture every night?

She recalled the times when she used to be free. Sure, she may have misused that freedom once or twice, and it hadn't lasted too long, but she hadn't regretted being able to sail the seas with Will and Jack. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow.

Could he really be dead?

A tear brimmed on the edge of her eye, soaking her thick black eyelashes before rolling slowly down her cheek.

"Jack, Jack... you can't be dead..." she cried softly, trying to muffle pursuing sobs that racked her body like the shivers caused by the cold night air. Her body finally bent over from the spasm like sobs and she buried her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She let the wetness soak through her fingers, granting its salty liquid access her tongue. Its bitterness tasted good considering her condition and actually comforted her a little. But the dreadful thought kept reoccurring: if Jack was dead then those adventures on the seas may never happen again.

Everything was falling apart. She was falling apart. She wouldn't be able to go on much longer, she knew, if the news of Will's death was brought to her. Earlier that months he had been forced to watch as her father was killed regardless of the deal she'd made with the man that she was expected to call her husband. And she was still recovering from the shock and realization that she was now alone. After all, James wouldn't help her- that was apparent. Whatever love he may have once had for her was gone now, and he constantly avoided her gaze upon greeting.

Another tear rolled down her paling cheeks as she gasped for breath between cries. She couldn't let herself break down like this... she had to remain strong and sustain the hope that Will Turner was out there preparing to come to rescue her.

Sleep pulled at her spirit making her lean back again, but she instantly sat up again to lean against the window sill for support.

Sleep was frightening to her now. The fear of having a nightmare about the deaths of those she loved was enough to keep her awake most nights, but as for others it was impossible to resist sleep and it dominated her.

Was it her fault that she didn't want to keep reliving the dark side of her past? What happened to dreams of pleasure, adventure, and freedom? And more importantly, what had happened to this woman, who at one time had been strong and independent, witty yet proper, and loved and wanted?

One last tearful spasm shot through her body before she finally gave into sleep's will and drifted off into a sea of darkness.