Chapter 1:1

1766, September 3rd

Time passed.

I've always been more of a mature girl, never finding any joy in throwing snowballs at each other or sulking when I was neglected any object of interest, by my parents. It wasn't like we were especially lower-class… Nah, I didn't know who could've wanted to murder me and my family, succeeding in the latter. But neither I nor my sister knew what our parents were working as. It never even once occurred to me that they could've been drug dealers, gold-diggers or maybe just handling their normal jobs. All I knew was that we moved to Boston from Manchester when I was about two years old, a January morning 1762. I thought for a long time that we moved here, to the New World, because my parents wanted to start anew, as so many others were seeking: a new beginning. But I was wrong.

The remaining days of summer were hot and beautiful but I couldn't rejoice in anything. Who could blame me? I had lost my whole family, my house and all my belongings in a "tragic accident", caused by my mother not having turned off the stove. People actually believed that. They were of course offering their condolences as well as a place in their home, but I knew they didn't want me there. I didn't take it personal; as a matter of fact, I actually denied their gifts and money. I didn't want any of that.

Why, you might wonder? Why didn't I just soak it up and move on? Why didn't I stay in some peaceful little cottage with a foster family and live a normal life, marry and get kids? Well, the answer is easy. I wanted revenge. I wanted to find those responsible for the death of my loved ones. And a little voice also whispered in the back of my head that I wanted to meet Haytham Kenway again, and get answers for all my questions.

I got to live at my aunt's house, in Central Boston, a couple of blocks away from the port. It always smelled of fish and wet nets hanging from lines to become dry. She was a single of slightly under thirty, and always got drunk at the bars and came home with strangers almost every night. It would be cruel of me to call her a bitch, but I got to admit: she really was a horrible substitute for my mother. But at least she let me stay in her apartment and she never forced me to do any cleaning or cooking. She worked in a print shop, earning her money in an honorable way and she kept me fed and well dressed. The best thing though, by living with my aunt, was that I still lived in Boston, a city I had come to love more than anything. The streets with the many traders and shop boutiques, the harbor with the jolly sailors as well as the secret hiding places everywhere and the good inhabitants. But most of all: I had met Haytham Kenway, the British nobleman here, and he, he, had saved my life.

I spent my days on the rooftops, something I had easy access to since my room had a window pointing out at an old, abandoned sentry, where guards no longer stood. It was tricky at first to maneuver from tile to tile but after some time – and with much dedication – I could easily run without slipping and even jump to buildings nearby. It had taken me much bravery to try to leap from house to house, but having seen Mr. Kenway navigate himself with such grace, I decided that if he could do it, so could I.

"Gosh! How can you do that?"

I shot a smile back at him and put my hands on my hips.

"How can you not? Really, are you that bad?" I mocked and giggled, finding delight in his misery. "Come on! We haven't got all the time in the world!"

Alex glared irritably at me and peeked over the ledge of the roof.

"It's so far down," he complained and shuddered. "I ain't doing this, you crazy cat."

His sloppy "American" accent made me laugh.

"It's not! Come on!" I yelled. We were on our way to the bakery store to buy some bread for my aunt, and I didn't want to be late for dinner. "Hurry now!"

Alex was my best friend since I moved to Central Boston, living next door with his parents that were tailors and dyers. He was two years older but stayed with me even though he was mocked by boys his age, and supported me with everything. Alex was like a brother to me, in his kind but teasing manner and he helped me do my homework. He was very good influence on me and understood me even when I didn't want him to, which could be as infuriating as sweet.

"Can't we just walk to there?" he asked and scratched his blonde head. "It's not even fifty yards from here."

I shook my head.

"No, we can't," I answered and sighed. "You got to learn some day, right? Or will you just stay home and wait for me at evenings?"

I knew poking his manliness would work and it did. Alex didn't even answer but walked backwards a couple of steps. He then rushed towards me and leapt.

"Argh!"

He hit the roof with his knees and grunted. I quickly helped him up and smiled.

"I knew you'd make it," I said and pulled his arm. "Come on, the baker might close his shop soon."

Alex just shook his head and frowned.

"I-I did it. I made it over."

I looked confusedly at him and started to walk to the other end of the building, where a ladder was waiting to lead me down. The bakery store was just on the other side of the road from there.

"What are you babbling about, Alex?" I asked and started to descend.

He followed me and waited to reply until we reached the ground.

"Mel… I should probably have told you before I followed you onto these crazy 'roof-expeditions' but I didn't want you to…"

His voice trailed off in the distance as I stared right into the brown eyes of Haytham Kenway. He was back.