My darling Christina,
If you are indeed reading this, my angel, then I am dead. I wished only, in this letter to leave you with the truth.
Piracy is a crime, Christina, yet a crime unlike others. You accomplish, by committing this crime, that which is hardest to obtain. Thus, the crime becomes the necessity to obtain one thing: freedom.
This was the choice my father was presented with when he obtained a certain jewel, an emerald of amazing value that my mother gave to him when she died. He chose the piracy road, taking me and my brother, Edmund, with him. Needless to say, we had many adventures out on the sea. Your grandfather took us many places, but finally, he took us to an island, Palori some call it, others Isla Draconia. My father put a spell on that island with the help of a woman by the name of Tia Dalma, and we never heard of the treasure again.
Not a year later, our father was taken down by the crew. Edmund lost his leg and died later of blood loss, or so I heard. I, according to my father's wishes escaped and went back to Italy, where I lived out my life until our move to Port Royal.
Now, dear Christina, I write this with the hand of a life well live. You sit at twelve years old. Even at this very moment I see you in the grass, trying as hard as you can to get up the tree... I should go help you.
Whether by old age, illness, or force I have died as you read this, Christina, I want you to know, my daughter, that whatever hardships we have or will endure, I would like you to know that I love you, and you, my daughter, were and are worth it.
With all my love,
Your father, Edward Ricci
My father's signature smeared and the ink ran down the paper as a single tear fell from my eyes. It was more a tear of resignation than sadness for my father's death.
I had a wonderful memory. Still even now, though not to so much extent as before. I can remember things from yesterday all the way back to the age of four vividly.
No telling how long I stood there, lost in thought before my twelfth year came back to me. It was not the first time I had climbed a tree, yet it was the first time in regards to the tree outside the opera house. I could remember my small feet gripping the bark, my father's hands on my leg, helping me up.
I smiled as I put another piece of wood into the fire, the flames sending shadows dancing on the wall. I looked back down at the parchment in my hand, the corners and sides torn and the color fading from it. My hands shook as I read it again.
Shaking my head, another tear running down my cheek. I could see my face, illuminated with the fire, in the mirror over the fireplace, I was not looking well.
"Maybe..." I whispered, "I should be rid of the past." I held the letter over the fire, my hands trembling. "Move onto the future..." The fire seemed to welcome the paper in my hand.
And I let it fall.
"Don't you move!" A man's voice yelled from behind me. My hand remained outstretched and my body frozen. I moved to pull my hand back, "DON'T YOU MOVE!"
"Alright," I said, "Alright."
"Well, well, well," I frowned at the voice. "Miss Ricci... Murtaugh, fetch irons." I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders and I was turned around.
Six officers stood in my living room, each holding a rifle pointed at me. The officer that had turned me around now stood with one to me as well. Next to nearest to me, standing with a smirk on his face, was James Norrington, taking a pair of shackles from another officer. A fire flared inside of me.
"Miss Ricci, you are under arrest."
"On what charges?" I demanded furiously, "I have done nothing wrong!"
"Oh, I wouldnt say that..." James Norrington said coldly, pulling a small piece of parchment from his pocket. "Here is your warrant: Christina Ricci, wanted for the murder of Edward Ricci "
"WHAT?!" I nearly screamed, "Murder my father?! How dare you?"
"I'm not finished," Norrington interrupted again, "The murder of Edward Ricci, breaking convicted criminals out of prison (in which your murdered two more officers) and, finally, piracy." The shackles were cold on my wrists. What was I thinking? Did I really think I could get away with what I've done?" "This is your warrant, and you are to be hung at dawn, as Mr. and Mrs. Turner were to be." My eyes widened.
"How dare you accuse me of murdering my own father?!" I screamed, the officer was pulling me from my own house, "I would never!"
"What are you doing now?" I demanded as we entered the prison. The first thing I noticed was that we were not headed to a cell, but to a table by a fireplace. I was pushed into a chair, my left arm pushed on the table.
"No..." I whispered as I looked up to see a metal rod in one of the officer's hands. He was handing it to Norrington, who had two of the officers to hold down my arm. I shook my head. "No, don't..."
"Once a pirate, always a pirate." Norrington said.
There was a sizzle and the smell of burning flesh, the mark of a P on my arm and the sound of my scream filling the air.