Note: Taking a side trip. This chapter is not about Barcelona and Gerard.

A young girl with flowing black hair, envied by many in her tiny world. Some loved her voice, others loathed it. While other young girls sang at church, she sang in opera houses. She created melodies so pure that people cried. She sang to criminals, who wept in her presence. She was a beautiful soul. But some despised her talents. Daughters of mobsters, making light conversation at dinner, mentioned her name. Fathers, filled with pride, hired murderers to fix their family reputation. They had to be first.

The girl once had a beautiful name, but it was taken away, along with her once glorious life. Her parents were murdered, civilians of a long, destructive war, her brother was taken away with the draft, and she was left alone. People forgot her name. The girl had to gather food for herself at first, but then soldiers came and delivered rations weekly…then monthly. Each time they came, the looked more dead than alive. In order to help life the spirits of the warriors, she decided to sing a song for them. Her name arose again, and the daughters spoke of her again. She gained bad reputation with the gangsters, and soon…disappeared.

They told her to never sing again, they told her not to make a sound. She tried, but she couldn’t. Who doesn’t scream when being abused? Who doesn’t cry out when they are tortured. Her body was broken, but her soul was not. Her voice, alive without her, rang out each and every time. They would tie her to a wooden chair and lower it on ropes into freezing water. When they pulled her out she would gasp for air. Gasping was apparently a sound. They repeated their tortures until they realized she could never stop. So they took her out, to the frozen over lake….was it winter now? The pain was dull, and all she really felt was the sensation of blood flowing into her airway.

She felt herself falling into darkness, when she felt something else. What was it? The sensation of something…the ground was moving, vibrating, tremors?

“Are you dead?” Are you God? She wanted to ask, but her voice was finally gone. She felt her eyes open, though she didn’t seem to be able to control them. The sun was bright, although dull behind the gray veil of light winter clouds. A man stood above her, looking down. He wore a black fedora, a long, black, slimming winter coat, and black leather gloves. He looked over her with round spectacles, yet they had no sides, just the lenses and the bridge. She didn’t know how they were staying on his head, until she noticed the nose pads seemed tight. “Are you dead? Tell me.”

Part of her lashed out in anger, hatred. Her throat had been slashed, she was at the brink of death, and yet he wanted her to talk? She couldn’t anymore! She’d finally been silenced. Who the hell was he to demand anything of a wounded soul like her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t cry, her body ached with a dull throb. He scoffed at her and turned to walk away.

“N…” He looked down at her. She mouthed everything she could possibly think, but nothing came out after. He picked her up and walked away with her. She was taken to a broken down building, looking abandoned from the outside, but the inside, protected by metal structured walls, was a small home. Hidden underneath a trap door. He carried her with some struggle, but managed to get her to his house. He set her onto a comfy chair, with a plastic tarp over it. Everything in this place…it’s like he wanted to preserve it. She felt a cloth cover her mouth, a strange smell, and then she was unconscious.

She woke to the smell of jasmine tea. Wait…she’d fallen asleep? She sat up quickly, every muscle and bone protesting. But then she realized she was in a new dress, bandages around her neck, and she’d been cleaned up. It was embarrassing, but a nice gesture. He came back, a tray of tea and soft biscuits. He turned out to be a nice young man, quiet, about seven years older than her. Apparently he was on the run from a notorious gang: SOULESS. He had made a very stable home down here, below the building, which was actually a supermarket once. He’d made this home, put up the steel walls, and isolated himself. He knew how horrible war was. He gave her some very lukewarm tea, so she would not burn her throat. The cut hadn’t been very deep, just bled a lot. She would be fine.

His name was Markl…just Markl. He had no last name that he could remember, but he knew he had once been a headliner in SOULESS. It was his quiet, almost cold-hearted attitude they had liked. He’d escaped because that gang wanted him to murder his own family. He refused, and tried to get back to his home, only to find the entire block had been destroyed weeks before. He’d failed his test, and was now running from the ruthless gang. It was a saddening story, so she tried her best to tell her own story. He listened, quietly, scheming. Apparently her story made him angry. He went over to a corner, picked up a selection of books, unlabeled, and began reading. Markl fell asleep. She didn’t want him to be cold, so she covered him with a blanket. But he was snoring, probably because of his tight glasses. She reached over to take them off when a hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat.

When he realized who it was, he apologized, and helped her to another couch. They lived in his home for ten years. He would disappear for weeks, leaving her hungry. But just when she was about to emerge to the surface, he would come back, looking wrecked. He always brought back food, and clothing, plus extra blankets, and even money. She didn’t ask about it, at all. He looked like he’d gone to hell…then back. He’d bathe in one large, curtained off corner, with nothing but a drain and a bucket. She would do the same after he did. Then one day, he spoke to her, sadness in his voice.

“The war is over, the world above us is being rebuilt. You need to rejoin society…make a name for yourself again…and live happily. I can’t keep you here anymore.”

“Why?! I’m fine being down here. Is it…is it because SOULESS has found out where you live?!” She asked, her voice still softened by her old wound. He took her hands, and shook his head.

“No…it’s because you deserve better.” He packed her things, and helped her out of the trap door. They were met by the barrels of many guns. SOULESS had found them. Markl was taken away, and the young girl was kept chained up, and told to sing for their amusement. She couldn’t sing, so they’d shoot at her, telling her to dance. One night, she realized what blood smelled like…what it tasted like…and how wonderful she could feel. She’d killed a man, who tried to touch her. Beaten him in the head with a high heeled shoe. It was a wonderful sensation. She took his gun, and slaughtered other gangsters in their sleep. She finally reached the room of the boss. She opened the door quietly, and saw Markl. He was carelessly draped across a sofa, naked, and stabbed. The boss…she never saw again.

Markl…he lived. They moved away from this uncaring city, driving in a small car with no air or heat. All of their belongings in the back. They were more connected now than ever, sitting side by side, going into stores together. In a bag…in the car…was all of SOULESS’ money. Half a million dollars to use…cash. But they didn’t just spend. They lived in a car after all. Just basics…until one day, in the dead of winter, huddled under several blankets for warmth, Markl spoke to her.

“We are already living the worse…I don’t know when it’ll ever get better. We have survived the sickness, into health and back again…can you go on anymore?” It was a very strange proposal, but Greta said yes. He slipped the ring on her finger and then asked her, what she wanted to do.

“I need to find him…my brother who was drafted…” She closed her eyes, drifting into sleep. “Gerard.”

The whole plan backfired quickly and with cruelty. Barcelona not only enjoyed the outdoors, but loved the camping experience, even though they weren’t eating the best food. He told her bears might attack the tent in the night, but she seemed determined. She wasn’t even scared when a rat came near the campfire. Instead she beat it with a stick until it was dead. Gerard was surprised, but disappointed. His plan had been to scare the girl so much that she would just want to go home, not be crazy and want to hunt down the people who killed her parents. Although circumstances might be a tad different, the phrase “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” seemed appropriate to this situation.

Barcelona was a strong girl, and would prove it to her butler friend once and for all. She could tell he was trying to discourage her with little tales of bears and snakes, but she would not be deterred. She was going to find the person who murdered her parents, and that was final. She wasn’t scared of guns anymore, they seemed a fitting tool for revenge. But something was tempting. That book…the book. She was pretty sure Gerard had packed it, and the fact that he had all these weapons, made her think that the story in the book was real. But it couldn’t have been about Gerard. He was so well mannered and kind to her. He wouldn’t do horrible things to anyone. But all those weapons still made her wonder.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked. He’d been watching her closely, seeing her drift between reality and daydreams. Barcelona blinked and ate her food quietly. She wanted to ask so badly, but…what if it WAS him? What if he was the man who killed his daughter? She didn’t want to think about it. A murderer with her, alone in the forest. What a frightening thought. She finished her food and yawned. Gerard stood and gave her a large pan.

“There is a river only a few feet over there. Get some water while I set up the tent.” She was nervous, but she had her gun. She wished they had brought a bucket, the river was more like rapids, rushing and eroding the shore. She groaned as she tried to get water without getting wet, or getting swept away.

Gerard chuckled a bit while assembling the tent. He could hear her curses quite clearly, even over him stamping the tent spikes down. He had a pleasant surprise for her. This tent had a built in wall, separating the the inside in two. The wall was made in the same material as the tent, but it would do. This was the only luxury she would have on this trip. She came back, looking haggard and soaked to the bone. Apparently a rapid had hit her hard and knocked her against the shore. She glared at him and presented a dented pot full of water…and dirt. He looked down at it, then at her.

“Hmph. I could have let it go you know! When it started going downstream I went in after it. But a young man had already gotten it. He gave it to me and ran off…weird.” She said, taking a towel and wrapping it around herself.

“A young man? Out here, in these woods?” He said seriously. “Barcelona, you approached this man alone? Why didn’t you run?”

“He was a skinny thing! Geez, he gave it back, didn’t he?” She said defensively.

“Any size man can blow up a factory if they have the wits, Barcelona. That man could have been the person we are seeking, and you just walked up to him without a care in the world?” Gerard practically growled. Barcelona’s face had gone white, and she looked startled, and guilty.

“I never…I never thought about that. I just thought he was shy. But if he knew who I was, then why didn’t he try to kill me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was seeking out our CAMPGROUND!” He turned, with reflexes like a cat and shot a bullet into a bush. A loud cry came from the brush, and Barcelona hid behind Gerard for safety. A young man emerged and collapsed in front of the fire.

“I know him! I know HIM! Joshua?! What are you doing here? Wait…” She stomped over and kicked the boy so he was on his back. She pulled out her gun and aimed it at him. “You must be the killer!” She screamed, firing at the boy’s head, but her aim was off, due to a butler picking her up quickly.”

“I hate to ruin your moment, Sherlock, but look at the way this young man is. He doesn’t look wet at all, and in fact, is dressed quite nicely. If he were the man you met at the river, wouldn’t his sleeves be dirty from fishing your pot out of the water? And wouldn’t he look more disheveled from fleeing the scene?” Gerard asked. When he believed the girl had understood, he set her down again. “Why are you here, Joshua Cordain?” He asked seriously. The boy, bleeding slightly from his forearm, looked like he was about to go into shock.

“I…I heard that Barcelona’s parents were killed. I also heard she was seen withdrawing all of her money from the bank and riding away on a motorcycle! I thought she had gone mad, or eloped with a man! I came to confront her, to find out what is going on! And if she is not guilty of anything, I planned on asking her to marry me and telling her she’d be safe within the Cordain mansion! THAT’S ALL SIR!” He voice had raised several octaves while explaining himself, and his last little shout came out more like a squeak.

“So, you heard her parents are dead and came to find her.” Gerard summarized quaintly. Joshua nodded quickly, and Barcelona sighed.

“Joshua, I came out here to find the person who killed my parents, and besides, how did you find me here?” She asked, helping him sit down while Gerard looked for the first aid kit.

“I was following the tire marks…but…sadly, they disappeared, and I just went straight…and I ran into snakes, and spiders, and rats, and hawks…and then I heard voices. I was worried at first, wondering if it was bandits or something, but it was you, and your butler.” He said, staring at Gerard with a look of distaste. Barcelona remedied this with a quick jerk, tearing Joshua’s sleeve to above the wound. This shut him up effectively. Gerard then tended to the wound, with a look of equal displeasure. Barcelona groaned.

“Well, I’m tired, so goodni-”

“No you don’t.” Gerard said. “If I’m fixing up your boyfriend’s arm, you are doing the dishes, understand?” Barcelona looked like she was the one who’d been shot. Do the dishes? HER?! She was Barcelona Fauna! She felt her spirits sink. She used to be Barcelona Fauna. She grumbled pitifully and started doing the dishes. Joshua was quick to come to her rescue and wash them, letting her go to her side of the tent, already put together with blankets and sleeping bags. She changed into a nightgown and went to bed. Joshua grinned, and Gerard stared more.

“What are you so happy about?”

“She didn’t deny that I’m her boyfriend.”

The next day was filled with more exploring of the house and the outside. Their mother was busy in the kitchen making cupcakes and other pastries for the neighbors. They were going to go door to door in the neighborhood that afternoon and introduce themselves to the neighbors. The twins liked meeting new people…but they didn’t like that they couldn’t have any of the treats. So Roselyn moved all of her scrapbooking stuff into her secret hideaway, and opened the small circle window, letting some air in. She found some old fabric in that room and decided to use it and make some curtains for her small window. She was good at these things. It always took a long time to sew by hand, but her mother refused to let her have a sewing machine until she was older. Many hours later she finished the curtains and went outside. She could find a branch, a straight one, scrape all the bark off, and use it for the curtain rod. She found one near her sister’s garden.

Rosette was working hard, tilling dirt, throwing large rocks out, and then planting seeds. She hardly noticed until her sister said “eureka!”.

“Geez! Scare me to death why don’t you?!” She said, standing up and patting her knees, trying to get some of the dirt off. “What are you so excited about?”

“Oh. I found the stick I was looking for. Nice garden by the way!” Roselyn said, taking off back into the house. She was scrape scrape scraping little chunks of bark off of the branch for a good hour. Finally she closed her pocket knife, swept up all the shavings and threw them away. She installed some little holders and finally the curtains were done. And just in time! It was time for lunch. Then after that they all had to take showers and baths, then they’d go meet the neighbors.

After fights about towels and cold showers the family was all dressed and ready to head out. The girls each held a paper bag filled with stacks of saran wrapped paper plates, each containing treats. Even their father, who was balancing their brother on his hip, held a paper bag. Their mother held nothing because she was the talker. They then left the house. They went to about twenty different neighbors, each with either really annoying children who wanted to make fun of how they looked, or they had annoying dogs, that liked to jump on them. Each house took a chunk out of the girls’ spirits until they got home. Only one plate of treats was left because a particularly rude neighbor just slammed the door in their faces.

“That was the worst door to door intro EVER!” Roselyn complained, too miserable to even munch on some of her mother’s cookies. Rosette was in the same state, her head on the table resting on her chin.

“That was awful! So many people in the neighborhood and rude or have rude kids, and even worse dogs! That one clawed up my leg mom!” She said. “Look!” Her mother didn’t look, she was busy making a list of their neighbors on a grid with their personalities and if or if not her children could go there alone. “MOM!”

“If you’re leg isn’t torn off at the knee or isn’t bleeding profusely, then you’ll live Rosette!” She said. Their mother was irritated by the neighbors too, judging by the red X’s on almost all the neighbors on the grid.

“I can’t believe we have to go to school with some of those creeps!” Roselyn said with a huff.

“Oh! That reminds me. Girls, tomorrow we go to the uniform shop and try on your uniforms.” She said.

“WHAT?!” Came a reply in unison.

“Uniforms? No way!” Roselyn said.

“Why uniforms? Aren’t we going to a public school?” Rosette asked.

“You are, but they recently put a new uniform rule into play at the school, so we need to pick some up tomorrow before all the ones your size disappear.” Their mother said, completing the chart with a smile. She put it up on the fridge with a magnet. All of the neighbors had a red X on them, meaning the girls couldn’t go over to any of the houses…great. After dinner the girls stormed up the ladder, which is hard to do, and closed the trapdoor with a loud thud to get their discontented point across. They changed into their pajamas and sat in bed with the lights on for a bit, mumbling.

“Can you believe we have to wear uniforms now? So much for individual personalities.” Roselyn said.

“All those pretty dresses I could wear to school…now what? I can’t even, and don’t even, want to wear them over to a neighbors house!” Rosette chimed in.

“This is lame.” Roselyn mumbled. They turned out the lights, and quickly fell asleep, not noticing the distant rumble. They woke at three o’clock in the morning to a severe thunderstorm. The willows howled fiercely as the wind whipped about, knocking over porch furniture. Roselyn and Rosette woke at the same time and closed the window and the skylights…then they both gasped.

“MY HIDEOUT! I LEFT THE WINDOW OPEN!”

“MYGARDEN! THIS RAIN WILL DROWN ALL MY PLANTS!”

“I have to shut that window!”

“I have to set a tarp up!” They both bumped into each other. Rosette putting on her pink raincoat and Roselyn opening the trapdoor and putting down the ladder. They both clambered down and went separate directions. Rosette went into the garage, looking everywhere for her heavy-duty tarp. Roselyn ran to the door to her hideaway and noticed she’d locked it. WHERE DID SHE PUT THE KEY?! She raced back up the ladder, the thumping waking their parents.

“What’s going on around her-”

“SORRY DAD!” Roselyn shouted as she slid down the ladder and hit the floor with a thud, the key flying out of her hands and sliding under the fridge. “NO!” She shouted, trying to reach it.

“Where’s Rosette?”

“SHE’S OUTSIDE!” She heard their mother scream as she raced out into the storm, a barely audible “Rosette!” sounding out in the howling. Roselyn’s father took a fly swatter and helped her get her key. She raced to the door, unlocked it and flew up the stairs, her father close behind. The rain was rushing through the window, the curtains were nowhere to be seen. Roselyn fought with the window, trying to close it and finally her father helped her shut and lock it, the window rattling violently. She turned on the light and looked around. There was water everywhere. Her scrapbooking things were all packed up in their plastic bins…but all of the other papers, the blueprints and drawings…were soaked.

Roselyn stood in a puddle of water and just stared at it the mess. There was no way to salvage it all. Her father picked her up, without much resistance, and turned the light off. He carried her downstairs and set her in a chair at the kitchen table. Rosette was already there, soaked despite wearing her raincoat. Their mother was still outside, and their father went out to find her. They came back in a bit later, both covered in mud and rain. They stood in the kitchen and stared at their daughters. Rosette looked like she was terrified…Roselyn looked defeated.

“What were you two thinking? In this kind of storm?” Their mother said, sounding more worried than angry.

“We had worse in Florida mom…much worse.” Rosette said quietly.

“A storm is still a storm, Rosette! And we don’t know anything about the weather here yet!” She said sternly.

“I thought I could just…go out there and set up the tarp…I used to be able to do it in five minutes…” Rosette argued. “But you’re right…this storm was different.”

“And Roselyn, what were you doing that you…you’re arm is bleeding!” Her mother went off to the bathroom and returned with the first aid kit. “You probably did it when you slid down the ladder like that.” Roselyn only nodded. Their mother turned to her husband. “What happened?”

“She was trying to get into that upstairs room, she left the window open. We closed the window…but all the things up there are soaked.” Their father said. Rosette looked at her sister sadly. There wasn’t any punishment. Rosette got a shower while their father put Roselyn to bed, promising to help her clean everything up. Rosette came up with their mother, who told them never to do it again, and how worried it made her to see her daughters risking their lives doing brash things. The girls said they wouldn’t, their parents kissed them goodnight, and they went to sleep.

The next day was rough. Roselyn had to have her arm cleaned up again, and they all got dressed. Their father stayed behind to clean up the hideaway while they went shopping for uniforms. They reached a small uniform store called “PARIS’ UNIFORMS”. They went inside, the girls looking at each other nervously. Inside was a variety of different uniforms, some looking kind of pretty, and some looking a horrible, bleak gray. They were lead to where Corbin School uniforms were located.

The Corbin uniform consisted of a plain, long-sleeved, white blouse with a left breast pocket which had the school mascot, a Scottie Dog, on it. This was covered with a white, knit, sweater that could be buttoned up the front. The pants were interesting. They were jockey pants, the type horse riders wore. They seemed straight legged until a little below the knee, where they poofed out a bit. There was a snap button that secured the bottom hem snug against the student’s calf. Then the girls wore whatever socks they wanted, as long as they were neutral colors. They wore brown loafers as shoes. The girl’s each got two of those uniforms, in case one got dirty during the week. They also got two short sleeved blouses with the same pocket and mascot, for summertime. Then they bought an identical shirt to their summer blouse, except it was light blue. Also they got a pair of navy shorts, almost the same as their uniform pants, but shorter, the buttoned hem coming around mid-thigh. This was their gym uniform. This came with white knee high socks. The students could wear whatever sneakers they had at home.

This was their school uniform…and surprisingly the girls both liked it. It was kind of cool! They talked about it all the way home, their mother seemed a bit more at ease. They got home and their mother washed all the uniforms, and hung them in the closet.

Roselyn ventured up to her hideaway, to find a mess of twine branching all over the ceiling. From this makeshift clothes line, secured with clothes pins, were all the different parchments and papers that had been soaked the night before. Her father was hanging the last of them when she came in.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, they’ll all be fine! This artist must have used some sort of waterproof paper and ink, because everything is fine!” Her father said. “Even that!” He pointed to the window, where her curtains hung, a bit stained, but they still worked! Roselyn hugged her dad happily and sighed.

“Thanks dad…what about Rosette’s garden?”

“It seems okay to me! Nothing was flooded.” He said. The sky was bright blue, and Roselyn decided to leave the window open for everything to air dry. Her father had done something she hadn’t noticed before. He’d painted a waterproof sealant onto the plywood floors and even the baseboards. The floor was fine, so was the ceiling downstairs, to her relief. They found Rosette and her mother removing the one side of the tarp, and rolling it up. They secured it in a roll next to the garden. The part of the tarp still staked into the ground was in there good. Apparently their father was busy! He’d dug a hole around some one foot stakes, and poured cement into the hole. He then secured the stakes to the tarp and after the cement hardened, he buried it.

“Now the next time a storm is coming just roll the tarp over to the other side, and secure it to the stakes over there. I’ve given them the same treatment, so all you need to do is secure and get back inside…the ground and the cement will take care of the rest!” Rosette was thrilled. Their father was quite the handyman!

“Sweetheart, when is the station going to call?” Their mother asked.

“Tomorrow…then I’ll be back on the job!” He then ahemed and spoke in his newscaster voice. “Next up on the Channel Five News…weatherman Steve Toronto!” He said with a proud laugh. The twins went upstairs and looked at their uniforms in the closet. The cat came trotting up the stairs and sat between them, Roselyn petted him absentmindedly.

“One week…huh…”

“Yeah…one week.”

Gerard knew there was no arguing with her. He also knew that once she came to her senses, she’d be crying to go back home. So he did what any good butler would do. After she’d made a mess of her hair he picked her up over his shoulder, picked up her bag, and walked briskly to his room. He plopped her on the bed and she seemed a bit startled. He went over to his desk and pulled out a pair of scissors. He quickly cut her hair so it looked decent. The rest was hard for Barcelona to believe.

Within seconds her thoughts about this man changed. He was acting wild, like a mad man, until he spoke.

“If you really want to take the revenge route then you need to know how to fire a gun.” He said. He opened a few hidden compartments in the side and back of his wardrobe. Out of them came parts, different pieces of guns and weaponry that he put together with incredible speed. Every one he completed, he tossed onto the floor. Some of these weapons were from the military, she could tell. Plenty of semi-automatic rifles and things like that. After he’d put together SEVEN of these monsters he opened another compartment with fewer pieces. Here he assembled four different handguns. He tossed them onto the pile until he came to a really small one. He assembled it and walked over his pile of weaponry to give it to her.

“W-what’s this?” She asked.

“That is a small handgun. You can only use it in emergencies, do you understand? The ammo is rubber bullets, enough to subdue someone until I get to you.” He said quickly. Then, he started loading the other weapons with loud clicks, each different than the last. He pulled a large wooded chest with locks on it out of his closet. It had wheels on one side so he could wheel it around. He opened it and loaded the guns into respective slots. He then looked back to her. “Pack your bag with clothes, I’ll pack mine with clothes too. No dresses, only pants and shirts, preferably with pockets. If you look like a young boy then people might not want to come after you. But you will need to wear one dress today. Make it plain, not elaborate. And bring some form of identification with you, two or three if you have them.”

Barcelona arrived in her room, with her bag, in a daze. He’d changed in a split second. He still seemed like Gerard, but part of her was uneasy. All those weapons, and the one he’d given her. She’d always been afraid of guns. She packed all of her clothes, mostly outfits she went horse riding in. She dressed in a plain blue dress with a white ruffly collar. She finally packed her hair brush, some toiletries, and some things to clean her clothes with, including some twine for a clothes line.

Gerard was in his room, quickly getting things ready. He found his leather bound book and put it in the chest, he also took the knife from under his pillow and placed it in it’s holster. He went to the closet and pulled out the false bottom to the chest. He placed it over the weapons and then packed his trunk full of clothes. These were his uniforms, things he never wanted to wear again, but he knew he had to. He’d wear his butler attire when they’d leave on a few errands today, he had a big idea and he needed to look as normal and harmless as possible. After he completed his packing he packed some shampoo, plenty of soap for washing clothes, and some twine. Great minds thought alike, and didn’t even know it. He then wheeled his trunk into Barcelona’s room and found her packed and ready. She was writing in a book that he assumed was her diary. She looked up at him and closed it. It had a little combination lock on it so no “bad intruders” could get into it.

“We have an errand to run young miss. We’ll leave these bags here, but you’ll need a small purse and your forms of ID. I have mine on me.” He said with a polite bow. He seemed to have reverted back to normal. This made her feel a bit more comfortable.

“Where are we going exactly?” She asked.

“To the bank. Two actually.” He said. This made her worried.

“Why the bank? What could possibly be there?” She asked.

“Your money, the money your parents put into your special account when you were born. It has quite a bit in it and I think it’s time to make a withdrawal. We’ll need it to buy food and supplies, cookware, a form of transportation, a tent, and something to sleep on. This will be a long journey for you.” He said with a smile. She nodded.

“What should I do with this?” She asked, holding up the gun. He took it gently from her hands and put it in a side pocket of her bag, making sure the safety was on. That answered that question. She wore a black coat, and a small black hat with a veil on it. She’d look miserable when she went into the bank, hopefully they wouldn’t give her any trouble.

They arrived at the bank by car and got out with a small, empty briefcase. He held her hand, completing the “poor-girl-who-lost-her-parents” look. She walked up the counter sadly.

“I’d like to make a withdrawal please.” She said gently. The teller knew who she was. The process involved signing a lot of forms, which Gerard read before letting her sign, just in case of any loopholes. And some time later they exited the bank with the small briefcase full of money. They drove to another bank, where Gerard went in without her, also with a briefcase. He got back in the care carrying the same briefcase, but a lot heavier. He’d emptied his account as well, and his safe deposit box. They drove the family car to the nearest motorcycle store and purchased an old, custom made model. It was on sale, and worked as good as any other motorcycle around. But because it didn’t have the label, people didn’t want to buy it. They also had a luggage rack installed on the back, capable of holding a lot of weight, or so the man said.

They left the motorcycle at the shop while the man did some last minute repairs and installed the rack. They went to a large store and bought a large, two person tent, some sleeping bags, since they both decided two cots would be too much to pack onto that motorcycle. They also bought some camping cookware and then bought some food They drove back to the shop, left the family car in the parking lot, and tied everything onto the rack, including the two briefcases, just a bit lighter than before. Apparently Gerard had his motorcycle license already, something Barcelona had never expected. They drove the motorcycle back to the manor, unpacked everything, then repacked and strapped down Gerard’s trunk, Barcelona’s pack, the rolled up tent with the sleeping bags, and a separate knapsack with all the food and cookware.

The salesman had been right. The motorcycle could handle all that load and not tip over, which surprised them. Barcelona got dressed in a black hunter’s uniform her father had bought her. It had lot’s of pockets, and she put a few things here and there. Gerard helped her get used to the safety on the small gun, and gave her a holster for easy access. She shot two bullets and he nodded. She was a fast learner. He’d packed all the ammo they could ever possibly need, and then he gave her a long, green coat that went to her ankles. He placed a matching green cap on top of her head and smiled. He wore an identical outfit to hers. They hopped on the bike and kick-started the engine to life with a loud roar.

It was a long trip in the car across mountains and through woods. With coffee spills, cats screeching, yelling, loud sighs, crossing arms, kicking seats, and the crinkle-crunch of maps being opened and closed, then stuffed into random compartments. It got to that point where no one was talking and there was that eerie silence, only broken by random meows and the hissing of the radio. This was their “Exciting Trip?”, their “New Beginning”? What a load of crud! Two girls sat in the back seat, their little brother settled in his car seat between them. At first glance, one would think the girls were different ages, but if you looked closer, you’d notice their similarities.

One girl wore cute, frilly clothes, ribbons and lace everywhere. Her hair was neat and cut just below her chin, where it curled under. Her bangs were partially covered by a cute pink headband. In her hands she held a book in her favorite series about knights and princesses. Her twin wore her favorite gray hoodie with a picture of a cartoon bee with boxing gloves on the front. She wore jean shorts that were worn, and slightly fringed around one edge of the hem. Her hair was wild, and flipped in all sorts of directions, with a star hair clip near her right ear. Her hands were tucked in the front pockets of her hoodie as she fiddled with her mp3 player.

The silence continued. Even the cat, who was settled next to the twin in the hoodie, was quiet. Finally their mother let out another long sigh, and turned off the crackling radio.

“You guys, I’m sorry I snapped earlier, it wasn’t-hey…HEY!” She snapped her fingers, not really wanting to turn all the way around in her seat to get her distracted daughter’s attention. When it didn’t work she gave a nod to the quiet daughter. The girl let out a sigh, placed her floral bookmark in the pages she was reading and closed the book. She then leaned over and gave her sister a shove. This definitely got her attention.

“What? Geez! Why’d you push me! Mom! She pushed-”

“I know, I was trying to get your attention. Thank you Rosette.” She said. Her daughter smiled and opened her book again. Her mother trusted her to listen, but when her other daughter didn’t have all eyes on her…she knew nothing was getting through. “Now as I was saying. I’m sorry I snapped earlier. Roselyn, I know it wasn’t your fault you spit gum in Layton’s hair, you were laughing at your father’s lame jokes again.” She said with a playful shove to her husband, who gave her a cheery grin. “And Rosette, I know you were just trying to help, but hitting your sister with Layton’s toy train doesn’t help get gum out of his hair. So Roselyn, here’s your gum back.” She said, handing over a pack of sour blue raspberry gum to her daughter. “And Rosette, you’re helping me fix his toy later when we get to the house, first thing after we’ve set up the beds. You know he’ll never get to sleep without it.” She said. “Oh, and good job with getting the gum out of his hair, you two.” She said with a wink, then turned around and turned the radio back on, then twisted the knob to find a better station.

The car was an old VW station wagon her father helped put together. He was apparently really bad at it, because the steering wheel jammed up sometimes if you turned it too far, the radio always made static noises, even on the most clear stations, the air conditioner made a constant screeching noise, and you had to pump the the brake petal really fast or real slow in order to shift gears. Their father always joked that he was helping a friend make it, and in the end it was so bad his friend gave it to him instead. It was around eight in the morning when they knew they were in Michigan. The roads got bumpier and more full of pot holes the further in they drove. They finally turned down a dirt road that led them to a big, two story house with a tall brown fence all the way around. Out front was a lamp post with a lantern on top, and a big rock, taller than Layton, and wider than Roselyn was tall. Out back, towering into view over the fence, were two huge willows. Life was already much different than in Florida.

Roselyn got out of the car, taking her cat into her arms so he could see too. She stood in the grass first, looking around, then she took a running leap and jumped onto the big rock, lifting the cat a bit so he could see the willows.

“So this is our new home…what do you think Mr. Snickerpuss?” She asked. The cat rumbled in a cheery reply. That was why she named him Snickerpuss. He hardly meowed unless he was agitated…most of the time he made a weird sort of grumble that sounded like someone snickering.

“Roselyn, there’s no time for playing right now! We need to get things set up! The movers are here!” Her mother shouted, hoisting Layton onto her hip, pulling her purse out of the car, and kicking the door shut with a weird rattle.

“Honey, be gentle with it! It’s old you know!” Their father said, giving his wife a little smooch. He then patted Rosette on the head, which she shook off and walked away. She didn’t like people ruining her perfect appearance. He chuckled and walked over to Roselyn, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her off the rock. She laughed and held onto her cat’s paws so she could spin him too. Finally her father let go and she tumbled into the grass. That was something new! The grass in Florida was all crunchy, and hard to walk barefoot in if you weren’t used to it. But the grass here was as gentle and soft as hair! And almost as thin! She rolled in it a bit until she was facing the sky.

The sky was even different here. The clouds were different shapes, and moved slowly, the sky had a thin, gray layer, thin as a sheet, that muted the bright blue she was used to. She got up, and picked up her cat again, who had waited patiently next to the rock, munching on some of the grass. She then walked up onto the porch and waited for her mother to come with the key. Finally she came up the steps and unlocked the door. It crackled a bit from old age, but it swung open without a squeak. Rosette let out a cheery laugh.

“No palmettos on the floor?” She said, walking in first, her flat’s clicking on the hardwood floor. Their mother went in next, letting out a sound of awe.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it honey?” She said, holding her husband’s arm. Roselyn came in last, holding her cat under his armpits. She looked around, not sure what she thought. They’d walked into the living room, she could tell that much, because through an archway to the left was the kitchen. She didn’t follow her family, instead her eyes set on a door in the far left corner of the room. She walked toward it, wondering where it lead. It wasn’t locked, but had an old fashioned key hole. She opened it, and it made an even louder crackling sound than before. She flinched, hoping her parents wouldn’t hear. When the coast seemed clear she climbed up the steps. The only light was from the living room, so she went up the steps carefully.

She let out a startled sound as she ran into another door. This one was unlocked too. She opened it and it almost fell off it’s hinges. She dropped Snickerpuss in an attempt to grab it before it fell, but the hinges held on. She sighed and then let out a scream as something touched her face. Roselyn clamped her hands over her mouth and reached up, pulling on what was a light pull. It turned on and she gasped, eyes wide. The room must have been a study, because it had a drafting desk, and a ton of rolled up parchments and papers scattered everywhere. She smiled, and took a step toward the desk when she felt the floor almost give way. She looked down to see that there were actually planks everywhere, and she’d stepped on what was probably the ceiling below.

Rosalyn nervously crouched down and examined where she’d stepped. It wasn’t cracked or broken, to her relief. She let her cat jump onto her shoulders and then stood up. The desk was old, and looked handmade. The lantern on it didn’t have a bulb, which made her a bit angry. She was about to open one of the parchments when she heard a gasp.

“Geez! We’ve been worried sick about you! And here you are, in this dump!” Her mother said, hands on her hips. Roselyn gave her an apologetic look and then smiled.

“It’s not a dump! All this stuff is so cool! Oh mom, can this be like…my secret hideaway?! Please!” she asked. Her mother pursed her lips.

“Roselyn, I can’t give you a secret hideaway and not give your sister something!” She said. Moments later Rosette came up the stairs and gagged.

“Oh my God!” she shouted.

“Rosette, what have I told you about-”

“I’m sorry! Sorry! But why are you up in this nasty place!” She said, holding a handkerchief up and covering her mouth.

“See mom! She doesn’t want want to be up here! So can I have it? Please?!” She asked. Her mother sighed.

“I guess you can. What do you want Rosette? I have to keep things even!” She said, looking at her other daughter with a smile. Rosette grimaced.

“I want to be out of this room! But I saw a large patch of dirt and weeds in the back! I think it was probably a garden! Can I have that?” She asked. Her mother thought about it and nodded.

“Sure! I know how much you like flowers and gardening, and the weather here is perfect for it!” She said. Rosette smiled and then quickly went back downstairs. Roselyn practically beamed, until her mother turned back to her. “You can only have this place up here if you clean it yourself…and we’ll have to get some plywood to make a better floor up here. It’s too dangerous, and you could fall through. She said. Then they both went downstairs. When they got back into the living room, her mother pulled an old skeleton key out of her pocket and locked the door behind them. Roselyn started to protest but her mother smiled at her. “Roselyn, no playing up there until we get the rest of the house straightened up. Besides, I know you’ll love your new room!”

“What makes you think I’ll love it?” Roselyn asked.

“Because Rosette hates it!” Her mother replied with a laugh. This made her daughter laugh too. After the kitchen there was a four way sort of intersection. Directly to the left and right beside the kitchen was a door. Her mother opened it and saw they’d already set up the study. The desk was already there, and Layton’s play pen was set up too. He was sleeping, holding onto his toy train, which seemed to be fixed. Then straight ahead from the kitchen was a large room, with piping all along the right wall. Her mother told her never to touch the pipes. This room had a painted cement floor, and at the very end was a washer, a dryer, and a window out into the backyard. There was also a door that lead to a breeze way to the front yard, the back yard, and into the garage. Then, from the kitchen and to the right was a long hallway, with two doors on the right, and one on the far left. The first door on the right was Layton’s room, it was painted in pastel blues and had a train pattern across the top border of the room. The crib was already set up. Then, the second door on the right was her parent’s room, their bed was already set up too! The last door on the left was the bathroom. Roselyn blinked and then stared at her mother.

“Where’s our room?” She asked. Her mother grinned and walked to the middle of the hallway. She then pointed to a string hanging from the ceiling where a trap door was. Roselyn’s eyes widened.

“No…WAY! NO WAY!! REALLY?!” She asked, practically jumping for joy. Her mother pulled on the string until a set of stairs slid down. She pushed on the hinges to lock the stairs into place and motioned her daughter to go up. Roselyn climbed the ladder into the attic, that seemed to be separated from the other upstairs room by a brick wall. There were two skylights, and a small round window that looked out to the back yard. She looked down at the hardwood floor and smiled. Her bed was set up under the skylight and closest to the round window. Her bedside table was set up in the corner near the back wall, and another table was to the right of her bed with a lamp on it. Her sister had the same sort of setup on her side, but a ways past her was a pair of closet doors.

Roselyn opened them to find a rather large closet, that was split in half for them. She smiled and took off her hoodie, hanging it on the only hanger on her side, and then shut the doors again. She pulled her purple shirt down over her stomach and stretched. It was pretty hot up in the attic, but luckily the round window opened, and so did the skylights. What was better was that there was a screen over the hole that you could unhook to open the skylights, and the hook back up so no bugs could get in. With the help of her mother she opened all three and a breeze came through. She went back down the ladder, with her cat on her shoulders again, and her mother showed her how to unlock the hinges and push the ladder back up before closing the door. She was happy until the mover came in with boxes of stuff that she had to lug up the ladder a lot of times.

Finally, after a lot of moving she was unpacking her things. A bookshelf was moved into their room, so she placed her favorite books on the bottom shelf, since all of Rosette’s books would take up most of the rest. There were also two desks, a surprise gift to the twins, moved into the room and assembled. Roselyn’s was on the opposite wall, parallel to her bed. Rosette’s was set up the same. Roselyn was happy about this because there were plenty of drawers and cubbyholes, and also a plate of plexiglass so you could decorate under it anyway you want! She took pictures from her photo album of her old friends back in Florida and put them under it. There was a wooden chest set under the round window so you could read and look out. It also opened so they could put their toys and stuffed animals in it. Rosalyn preferred to have all of her stuffed animals in bed with her, but her mother put an end to that when they’d all fall out of bed, since she was a restless sleeper. Now she could have one in bed.

Roselyn spent the rest of the day customizing everything she had. She put her wooden treasure box, a gift from a friend, under her bed. She kept some embarrassing pictures, and also her hair clips and jewelery in it. Finally, she set up her collection of stuffed animal cats on the top of her desk. She was finally done! She smiled sat down next to bookshelf and pulled out one of her scrapbooks. She’d made plenty of scrapbooks herself, but this one was special. Her friends had made it before she left. It was full of pictures of them when they were young. She was so absorbed in it that she didn’t even notice Rosette come upstairs. Her twin stood there for a moment, and then sat down next to her. Rosette put and arm around her sister and sighed.

“I know you miss them. I miss my friends too.” She said softly, trying not to cry. Roselyn hadn’t even noticed she was until she saw tears on the plastic cover of a page. She wiped them with the bottom of her shirt and sighed.

“I’m sorry they didn’t say goodbye to you…or do anything nice…that wasn’t cool of them at all Rosette.” Rosette sighed, and flopped back on the floor.

“They weren’t that great of friends anyway. Your friends were cool though…they even made you a scrapbook.” She said, looking up at her sister tearfully. Roselyn leaned over and kissed her sister on the forehead and smiled.

“But we still have each other…and we’ll always be pals, won’t we?” She said with a grin. Rosette laughed and sat up, hugging her sister.

“Of course!” She smiled and stood up, helping her sister up too. “If I didn’t have you, who would I have? LAYTON?” They both laughed about it until they held their sides. “You should check out my garden sometime! It’s so awesome! I already planted some tulips and daffodils! When I find my snapdragon seeds I’ll plant them too! I know you like them!” She said with a smile. Roselyn smiled too.

“After I get it all cleaned up you should totally come and see my secret hideaway! It’s so cool! I can’t wait to see what’s on all those papers and scrolls! It’ll be so fun!” She said. Rosette laughed.

“As long as it’s not old moldy homework!” She said. The twins giggled and threw pillows for a good half and hour until they both realized they were hungry. They climbed down the stairs and put them back up the way they’d been shown. They decided to raid the pantry and found the supplies to make PB&Js. So they snacked on those and then parted ways for a bit. Rosette decided she’d unpack her boxes and hopefully find all the gardening stuff, and Roselyn took some old dusters and rags and decided to clean the hideaway.

She got to the door and remembered her mother had locked it. But when she turned the knob she found it was unlocked. She made her way upstairs and was surprised to find everything tidied up and clean! She noticed the floorboards were now covered securely with plywood and smiled. She found a note on the desk saying her mother and father loved her very much. She laughed and ran around the house until she found her sister. Rosette was pleased to find the hideaway clean, and helped Roselyn look at some of the scrolls, which turned out not to be old moldy homework.

“They’re blue prints! And old drawings! Look! This one is of our house!” Rosette said, unrolling a large parchment to reveal the outline of the upper floor, and the lower floor. “Huh…there was a fireplace there once? It’s all bricked up now! And here’s the secret room! And our rooms! And all the others! Oh! There’s a well outside too! But that must be where that new pump thing is! That way we don’t have to use a bucket!” The girls looked at a few more before their mother called them. They scrambled downstairs, where Roselyn promptly hugged her mother, and then they all had dinner.

Warning: Some violence…sorry again.

Barcelona woke to the sound of sirens and aggressive voices downstairs. One of the voices, she recognized, was Gerard’s. She decided to sneak around upstairs to get closer without being found. She found a small nook near the staircase landing and peeked down at the scene. Gerard was obviously upset, judging by the way his hair was messed up and barely tied back. He was shouting a bit and pointing fingers at the cops.

“There was a full shift of staff there at the time, how could they get out and the Fauna’s not?! How is it that they were the only two people found at the scene?! Why wasn’t anyone there? They were going to check on the factory, that’s all!” He shouted. Barcelona felt her heart beating in her ears. This couldn’t be…she was hearing it wrong.

“I’m sorry sir, but when we interviewed some of the employees they all said yesterday was a day off.” The policeman said.

“That can’t be possible…It can’t…I’m in charge of scheduling in this house, as well as bookkeeping…and ten employees were supposed to be paid yesterday, and over fifty were scheduled to work in the factory yesterday and today! The Fauna’s would have told me if they’d changed their minds!”

“The point is that there was an explosion in the factory, and the only bodies found were those of Francis and Claire Fauna. There’s nothing else, all evidence is burned up and in ashes.” The police flinched when they heard a whimper. Barcelona was slumped against a banister, trying to control herself and trying not to cry. Proper ladies didn’t let people see or hear them crying. She was fighting a losing battle though, because as soon as she blinked Gerard was up the stairs and held her in his arms, trying to console her.

Barcelona didn’t know of a time when she’d cried like this. There was when her brother and mother passed away, and when her other brother disappeared…but now her father was gone too! The last person in her family that was alive. The sounds she made weren’t really even cries…but something worse, almost inhuman. She screamed, and tried to fight against Gerard, even scratching him. When she fought him away from her she took off, her leg protesting from the injury the day before.

Within moments she was outside, in the same garden as yesterday, maybe she hoped that she could turn back time…this was where she was yesterday when her parents were in the factory. Thoughts of her father, screaming as his body was incinerated in an instant, flashed in her mind like a fresh wound and she wailed, dashing as fast as she could, not looking back anymore to see if she was being followed. Her breath was coming in faint, rigid gasps, and her feet carried her slower and slower. She didn’t want to slow down, but she wasn’t good things like this.

She heard a sound, not like a human, but something darting in the tall grass and wildflowers that swayed in the Fauna’s backyard. She paused, her body aching in protest, but she was exhausted. She heard growls, and more rustling. She was beginning to get scared, something was out here with her, and it wasn’t human. She a loud crack as a branch snapped and she darted to the left. Her feet jammed into something long and hard that sent her slamming into the dirt. It was like deja vu…like yesterday. She froze on the ground, wondering if she closed her eyes, if she’d wake up. She closed them, but when she opened them, her eyes met those of a beast. It was some sort of dog…but it snarled, blood soaked lips curling in brutal rage.

Things happened quickly, faster than she ever thought possible. This creature lunged at her, and her reflexes kicked in. She rolled, grabbed the thing she’d tripped on, and slammed it into the little beast’s head. It’s cry was cut short, and blood splattered against the dirt and flowers. She held the bloody shovel in her hands and practically snarled herself. Others of the beast’s kind came, charging in vengeance of their fallen brother. She screamed and swung, impact after impact slowly numbing her senses.

By the time Gerard and the police reached her, they saw many things. Broken, mangled and utterly destroyed bodies of wild dogs. Flowers and tall grasses dripping in blood, and a fourteen year old girl, repeatedly slamming the blade of a shovel into the head of one of the animals. She wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Even when they took the shovel away from her she still swung her arms in that same motion, until Gerard used his hair tie to bind her hands and picked her up, making a mad dash back to the manor. None of this was right, it wasn’t fair, and he knew everything about this type of thing. He knew the feeling of wanting to destroy everything in sight. People thought it was alright, since he was a man…but seeing a young girl, so lost in a murderous rampage, her heart screaming in agony…it tore wounds so deep he knew he couldn’t heal from them.

After a doctor was called, she was given tranquilizers and put to bed. Gerard stayed next to the bed, hair disheveled, clothes covered in smears and spatters of blood, and his head in his hands. He hadn’t protected the most innocent thing in this world. He couldn’t save her, or protect her. Even though the doctors said she would make it through this…what did they know. He didn’t even know if she could, or if he was any help to her at all. He failed as a servant to her, and to her parents.

Hours passed, and Gerard woke to an empty bed. He panicked, searching the manor quickly. He came upon her in the library, gathering books off the top shelf in nothing but undergarments. He could tell by her eyes that she wasn’t well. She came down, and stuffed them in a large hunter knapsack. He was about to ask her what was going on when she stormed past him with the bag swung over her shoulder. She dropped it with a loud thud against the floor outside the bathroom. He came in just in time to she her hacking off her beautiful brunette curls. He wanted to ask but she turned to him, and stared, deeply, with eyes of one who was lacking sanity,

“We’re leaving…pack. Now.”

The next few days were a blur…then a week. She barely got out of bed anymore except to bathe, then she just laid there and daydreamed. Her father called a doctor…Claire called a therapist. The doctor examined her and said she was probably still in shock over the incident. After all, Nicolai was supposed to be her husband in the future, and his loss must have upset her greatly. The therapist said she was just lazy. A few days after the two men visited, she finally got out of bed, took a bath, dressed in a plain looking outfit consisting of a tan lacy skirt, and a white blouse. She wore similar clothes when she was tutored by Gerard. But since it was summer she got a short break. She wandered the halls of her home, feeling like she was just visiting this place.

After tying her hair back, she went downstairs and found that her family had already eaten lunch. They hadn’t even made a plate for her. She glared at the empty table and stormed off. She’d had enough of this place. It was boring, dull, and stupid. She was throwing a mental fit when she came to the back door. She’d never been out in the gardens before, so she went back to her room, and rummaged through the cedar chest to see of she had any boots or shoes that didn’t have heels. She couldn’t find any, so she went to the foyer and opened a closet there, finding a pair of boots. They were her mother’s, not Claire’s, and she was surprised to see them there. She put them on and was excited that they almost fit, only a little too big. She laced them tightly and then put on a heavy shawl, in case she got cold.

She opened the door and stepped out. It was exciting, exhilarating! She took her first step out, and then closed the door. She took another step and then stumbled as the old rocky steps crumbled and gave out. She let out a startled scream as she crashed onto the dirt. Despite the pain she felt, she was more worried about someone hearing her. She scrambled up and half ran, half limped around the corner, where she found a well. She sat down on the edge and groaned. She gently lifted her skirt, which now was torn on one side to right above her knee. Said knee was bleeding quite a bit, and had tiny bits of dirt and rock in it. She groaned, more out of irritation than pain. Now what was she supposed to do? There was no way to hide this injury, and there was no way to hide that she’d been outside, since she was now thoroughly covered in dirt. Letting out a sigh she started to sob. Nothing could ever go right for her…EVER!

She’d only wanted to explore the gardens and start feeling better, but instead she’d hurt herself. There was no way of hiding it either! She was interrupted by a rustle in the bushes. She froze, eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest.Time stood still as the rustling stopped.

“What-”

“AUGH!” She screamed, flailing a bit as Gerard came from the bush opposite the sound. He flinched himself and held his hands up like someone was pointing a gun at him. Things were quiet a moment, except for the sound of Barcelona trying to catch her breath…and trying not to cry again. Finally he spoke again.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked gently, noticing how frazzled she was. She gave him an utterly defeated look and then spoke.

“I just wanted to get out…but nothing can ever go right. The steps fell apart while I was going down them, I scraped my knee up, and I’ve ruined this uniform! And now there’s no way I can get back inside without HER noticing!” She said, throwing her hands up in frustration. Gerard couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Things happen like that sometimes.” He said with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” He said, and then he was gone. She waited for what felt like forever, and then he came back with a first aid kit. He tended to her wound as gently as he could and then wrapped it in linen strips. She couldn’t really bend it, but at least she could walk a bit.

“How am I going to go back into the house and change? What if-” He cut her off by holding his hand to her lips.

“They left earlier today to check on the factory, both Claire and your father…no need to worry.” He said. She let out an audible sigh.

“Thank heavens! Now I can get cleaned up and change clothes…oh…but what will I do about my uniform?” He asked him. He smiled again and helped her stand.

“I’ll mend it and have it cleaned while you’re in the bath. Just leave it out in the hallway and I’ll get it. He said. Then He helped her past the broken step and into the house. “I wouldn’t come out here again young miss…the world isn’t such a great place.” He said. Barcelona nodded and made her way to the bath. As she sat in the water, her injured leg hanging over the edge of the tub, she wondered what he’d meant. Her heart was beating fast now…because he’d said almost the same thing the traveler had written in that book…that the world was not beautiful. This worried her a bit…but she pushed it into the back of her mind. She had to get cleaned and dressed before her family came home. She got dressed in a proper summer dress with ribbons and lace everywhere. She then waited in the den with a book she was supposed to be reading over summer for her tutoring in the early fall. Day turned to night, and she fell asleep in the chair. She didn’t noticed when the book was taken out of her hands, or when she was picked up. But she woke up the next day to some very disturbing news.

WARNING: Quite a gruesome chapter. Sorry. ^_^;

Barcelona woke in her bed, back at the main house. As she sat up she felt lace against her wrist. She was wearing her favorite nightgown, which was a small comfort after what had happened. She stretched, and yawned, but then flinched. More memories of the night before came to her. Her arms felt achy, and her face hurt. It wasn’t too bad, she could deal with it, but the pain throbbed when she stood up.

She managed to catch herself and cling to a bed post. Groaning she began to walk out of the room and down the hall. She was worried about her father and even, shocking as it was, her stepmother. She managed to make it to the hallway when she noticed a light on in one of the rooms. She made her way over, and then opened the door with a barely audible squeak. No one was inside, it had always been a sort of guest bedroom, but it looked as though someone had just been in there. The bed sheets were rumpled, and the armoire was open, with only a few things hanging in it. She hobbled in and upon further investigation she noticed they were servant clothes, the type Gerard wore.

Did her father move him up here after what happened at the ball? She smiled at the thought. Now she felt a bit safer. Though she wondered if Gerard was always so messy in his room with the bed so disorderly and his wardrobe open. She closed it for him, and then sighed. No matter what she did, she could never repay him for what he’d done for her. He’d saved her life, rescued her from a gruesome fate, one which Nicolai had suffered. She paused, and sighed. Nicolai had always been so horrible to her, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was relieved. Now she wouldn’t have to marry him. She gasped at the thought. How selfish and cruel of her to think that way.

She got busy again, making Gerard’s bed without a second thought and putting random articles of clothing in a hamper. As she tucked the quilt and linen under his pillow she felt something. It was hard, and cold. She reached in and pulled it out. She flinched and gasped, as she was holding a rather large chef’s knife by the blade. In her rush to put it back she cut her index finger. It stung, but it wasn’t too bad. As she shoved it back under the pillow she felt something else.

She could tell immediately that it was a book of some sort. She pulled it out, and stared at a plain black cover. No writing, just black leather, the polish worn away as though it’d been read many times. The pages showed similar signs of use, some dog eared, some torn around the edges. This book looked ancient, but the smell was fairly new. It didn’t have that old, musty scent, but that of almost new pages. Someone had read this, or flipped through it a lot since it’d been printed. It wasn’t a bible, the paper was actually nice, smooth, and thick. She opened it to a random page, and noticed it was almost like a diary of sorts. It was written in the storyteller’s point of view. But it couldn’t be a diary, this was printed somewhere, not handwritten. But the lack of page numbers, and also no title certainly gave it an almost diary feel.

Flipping to another page she began to read, at once discovering the main character was no only male, but a brutal one. He spoke of going on a journey home, hoping to go back to his wife and destroy those who had sent him away. She went on reading, down to the next paragraph, and was at once engrossed in the story.

After years of going to war for my country, even though I was supposed to be exempt, I was finally on my way home. I could not wait to greet my wife again, to hold her, to love her. I wished to no longer be a dog, but a man again. The journey was just as perilous as when I was dragged away my the military. Many times I thought I could no longer go on, but my longing thoughts of her, kept me going. I traveled over mountains and waded through deep waters, all to get back to my home in the country side.

I finally caught the scent of lavender and honeysuckle, at last I was close to home. Though my very bones ached, my heart yearned more. I pressed forward, past the meadows and there I saw my house. It looked more run down than usual, but it was a welcoming sight. I was finally home, and was so close. I stumbled down the hill in a sort of trance, thinking only of her, blindly hoping.

The world is not beautiful, it is not kind, and it does not play fair. Upon entering my home I noticed everything was in a state of chaos. Tables and chairs were overturned, pictures broken on and off the walls, and the stench of despair greeted me at the door. I did not see her, I did not feel her warming presence. Something was wrong. I investigated this hovel to find no trace of life in here, cobwebs hung everywhere and there was an uneven layer of dust, as though someone had attempted to clean, but had given up.

I heard the sound, and ran for the door. A young girl was there, barely a woman. Her appearance matched this wretched place, and my anger overcame me. I asked her where she was, where my beloved had gone, and in a dismal tone she told me that my wife was dead. The look on her face told me…she had taken part in my wife’s demise. I was consumed by rage and loathing. I asked her what she had done, she wouldn’t answer. I tied her down, burned her, beat her, tortured her body and soul and yet she refused to speak of it. I did things no decent human being could even dream of.

Soon enough, I heard cries in the night, coming from the cellar. They were loud enough to wake me, and so I decided it was worth my lack of sleep to investigate. She’d given birth in the night, and was bleeding to death when I found her. I felt no pity for her, the murderer. But as she left, she whispered something. An eye for an eye. She died, and the baby wailed. It was a hideous thing, this child. But I could not waste time on it. I left the thing on the hill, surrounded by lavender and honeysuckle.

I went to the record keeper…something I should have done in the first place, and deeply regret, even now. My dearest…beloved. My Katya, what have I done, for I did not know you had a daughter. I can even forgive you, harlot, for that girl, Miska, your daughter, my daughter. What have I done. Her body decays in that house, in the cellar, and I am left here with nothing.\

I left. I burned that house down, everything inside turned to ash. I returned to the hill, and found the child had been mauled by animals. The world does not smile upon my kind, the wretched men of the world. It appears I will forever be what I was made. I am a-

“May I ask what you are doing in a man’s room, late at night my lady?” Gerard asked, standing in the doorway. Barcelona flinched and the book slipped out of her hands and onto the floor. The servant’s gaze did not change, he just stared, expecting an answer.

“Your room…was quite a mess. Since I am in your debt I cleaned it for you, that is all. He walked over and picked the book up, and observed a smear of blood, seeping into the worn leather. He stared up at her.

“Since you have bled on it, I do believe it should be yours now.”

“I do not want it…really.”

“I could have sworn you were an avid reader, very much so, since you were sitting here for almost an hour, and didn’t even notice my presence.” He said. Barecelona grew pale. He’d been standing there all this time? She gulped and stood. Something was off about him, was it because she’d read the book?\

“The story…in…that book. Is it-”

“A one of a kind piece of fiction…yes. Only one has been printed. I mostly wrote it for myself, and then had one copy made. This type of story, is far to gruesome for the common people, nonetheless a sheltered young woman like yourself.” He said, no hint of anger in his tone. She let out a sigh of relief.

“A work of fiction. I’m relieved…for a moment there…it almost seemed like it was real.” She said with a small laugh.

“Then I have done a good job as a writer. That is our goal, make you believe, what is not real, and make what is real, impossible to conceive.” He said, taking the book and placing it on his bedside table. He opened a drawer and retrieved a tiny bottle of vodka. He opened it and placed his finger over the top. He turned it upside down, then right side up. He removed his finger, wet with alcohol, and smeared it onto her wound. She flinched and tried not to make a sound. It stung, a lot, but she wouldn’t let herself cry. She had to look strong, especially after the incident at the ball. The pain ebbed away and he released her, wiping his fingers on a handkerchief.

“Thank you.” She said quietly. She stood and bowed slightly and headed for the door. He followed and as soon as she was out he began to close the door.

“Sweet dreams.” He said with a slight smile. The door clicked shut.

The rest of the night seemed to be going off without a hitch. Barcelona danced with her father, and talked with some girls her age, giggling about random things and who they thought was handsome. Some of them thought it horrible that Barcelona had shunned Nicolai, and she didn’t tell them why. She wasn’t going to ruin his reputation. If she did, he’d continue to pursue her, because no girl would fall for him. This way, she just seemed picky and stubborn…and any other girl could have Nicolai all to herself.

Gerard had yet to come back, but Barcelona wasn’t too worried. While sipping on a small fruity drink she caught sight of a young boy, a few years older than her. He always showed up to this event alone, without any family. She’d always wondered how he got in, because his looks didn’t seem…classy enough. The boy had bright, light brown hair, flipped and spiked about in some strange fashion. He was thin, and his frame looked more feminine than masculine. Finally she spoke up.

“Who’s that boy over there?” She whispered to her group. The girls looked over and smiled.

“That’s Joshua…Joshua Cordaine. Why? Do you think he’s handsome?” One girl said, giggling. Barcelona laughed a bit too.

“I always wondered, with that appearance, how he comes to this ball every time.” She said softly. In fact, she did find him rather charming, and if she only had the courage to go and talk to him, she’d be delighted. She loved the way he talked, and moved. So animated, like he couldn’t sit still. She assumed he was probably of lesser intelligence, but that meant she would be seen as smarter! This didn’t bother her one bit. She enjoyed being more intelligent than others.

He happened to look over at that exact second, and their eyes met briefly. She blushed and looked down, all the girls giggling around her.

“He looked at you! Right at you!” One said giddily.

“Oh my…he’s coming over!” Another squealed. They pushed her past them and made a crescent formation behind her, making her the star of the show. Joshua walked over and smiled, looking down at the girl in the pretty red dress. He held out his hand, and she placed her’s in his. He smiled and kissed the top of it with a smile.

“I saw you from across the room, I’m Joshua Cordaine.” He said smoothly. “And what might be the name of this pretty maiden?” He asked. Barcelona blushed and smiled.

“Barcelona Fauna.”

“Fauna? Wow…classy!” He said with a sheepish grin. “I suddenly feel out of the league!” He said with a laugh. He smiled and opened his mouth to say something. Suddenly a shriek rang out through the ballroom. People panicked, wondering what had happened. A young woman came running from a corridor, her beautful baby blue dress covered in blood.

“He’s…he’s dead! NICOLAI FLORA IS DEAD! SOMEONE’S KILLED HIM!! THERE’S A MURDERER IN OUR MIDST!!” The woman screamed, and then fainted. Barcelona covered her mouth with her hands, backing away as her friends surrounded her again. Joshua stood in front of the group of girls, facing and blocking them from the corridor where the woman had just come.

“A murder? Here of all places?” Joshua said seriously. He looked around, as if trying to locate a suspect. Barcelona’s friends were nervous and held her close.

“Stay near us…if they’ve killed the heir to the Flora family, they might want to do the same with the Fauna family!” One girl said. The others scolded her for saying such a thing to Barcelona…saying it was scary enough without that alarmist behavior. Barcelona was worried, very worried. Where was Gerard? He’d disappeared shortly after her fight with Nicolai, and now the young man was dead. She kept looking around, as if hoping he’d be right in the open to ease her worry.

There were screams as all the lights went out at once. Then more as the girls around Barcelona seemed to be pried away from her. She cried out as someone grabbed her arm and seemed to be dragging her somewhere.

“HELP! HELP ME!! LET GO!” She screamed, flailing and lashing out with her fingernails, digging into skin. She let out a small yelp as she was hit, hard, in the face. She felt her knees getting wobbly and she lost her footing. The person picked her up, and she screamed even more, knowing that this was it…she was done for. There was a loud CRACK, and she was sent tumbling to the floor with a smack against the marble. She hit her head, and it felt like the world was spinning. She was almost unconscious when she felt something pull her upright by her hand. She let out a weak scream. The lights came back on in a blinding flash, and as her eyes focused, she could see Gerard was holding her hand. He looked worried, fearful even. She turned and looked down to see a man she hadn’t recognized before. She hadn’t seen him at the party either. Someone had hit him in the head with a bronze statue of some sort. The weapon was discarded on the floor, blood matted on it. The person’s head was bleeding, and he wasn’t moving.

Barcelona’s legs gave out as she collapsed into a red, ruffled heap on the marble. The stress of it all was too much for her. People around panicked, wondering if she was alright, was she dead? Gerard kept trying to tell them she was okay, but the whole ballroom was in an uproar. Finally Barcelona’s father stepped up and shouted for everyone to be quiet and step out of the way. Nicolai’s father and mother came running past, through the corridor. People could hear distant screams and cries…knowing the boy’s mother had now seen him.

People were worried, what would happen now? Was this man on the floor the real killer? If so, why did he do it? No one would ever know, because judging by the wound on the back of the criminal’s head, he was dead now. Barcelona’s father spoke, telling everyone to go home, and then he came running over, picking up his daughter carefully. He didn’t know what to do either, but he nodded in thanks to the butler who he knew, had saved his daughter.

Barcelona woke late on the day of the Flora and Fauna Ball. Luckily her father didn’t seem to mind. The Ball was going to be held in the evening as usual. She came to lunch, in a pretty dress, but not as pretty as the one her father had bought her. She didn’t even let anything Claire said to her during lunch get on her nerves! It was actually going to be a good event!

The Ball was only a few hours away when the Flora family showed up. That was what the event was named after! Barcelona’s family name was Fauna, and thus the ball they threw was named after both families. Her father was in a partnership with Mr. Philip Flora at the factory. Philip was married to Doraline Flora, and they had a son named Nicolai. Nicolai had been Barcelona’s friend when they were children, but now he was somewhat of a flirt. He’d talk to only girls at the ball, spouting off risque compliments left and right. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing him.

The ball was just about to start, and Barcelona was finally ready, as ready as she could be. In the beginning, the two children of Flora and Fauna would come out and play the opening song. Then they would be first to dance. She peeked out through the curtains on her side just a bit, seeing her father and Mr. Flora walk onto the stage and give a short speech. Then it was time.

“And now, time to have the annual starting song, by none other than our dearest children, Barcelona and Nicolai.” People applauded and cheered a bit. But most of them were stunned silent, with most of the women giving off “ooh”s and “ahh”s.

Barcelona was wearing a beautiful red dress with light pink lace, ribbons, and ruffles on every hem, her sleeves billowing gracefully as she walked. Lace accented the waist, under her bust, and parallel trails down the front connecting the two. The collar went over her shoulders, and she wore a white lace choker with some ribbon around her neck. In her hair was a petite hat, with similar accents, pinned into her hair. Her hair was freshly wound into big, luxurious, brown curls. She bowed and continued to walk toward the stage, with Nicolai mirroring her every move.

Nicolai wore a stunning black tuxedo, with slight ribbon and frill tucked under the collar and peeking out from the hem of his sleeves. He looked as smug as ever, but she tried to ignore it. They met up on stage, him taking her hand and leading her to the piano. She always played the piano part, and Nicolai the violin. Everyone always said that they were a perfect pair. Barcelona had made sure to cut him completely out of the husband category years ago when he got a bit too arrogant while pushing her on the swing and stroked her behind and her chest. To make matters worse, when she retaliated and slapped him, he responded in telling her there was nothing to fondle anyway. Her father had been very upset…the ball had almost been completely canceled.

Barcelona wanted to wash her hands, loathing the touch of that wretched boy’s hand…how he helped her onto the bench and didn’t let go of her hand until he wanted to. He walked over to his violin, picking it up, tucking it under his chin and they began. The song was beautiful, almost passionate, and ended in almost a sad note. The whole place erupted into applause, and the two stood up and bowed. He then led her down to the main floor as the band came up and began playing a song. The two danced, Nicolai’s hand seemed to be traveling lower and lower and Barcelona wanted to just punch him. Finally it was over and she couldn’t wait to just get away.

Nicolai had other plans. He believed that she had enjoyed it all, and decided to pursue her as she made her way over to where some food was. She picked up a small cup of tea, and a few petite fours, then found a chair. She sighed, knowing he was about to come up behind her. He did, as usual, stroking her cheek gently.

“Hello, it’s been such a long time, Barcelona. How are you this fine evening?” He asked with a sly grin, as he walked around and stood over her sitting form. She glared up at him and sipped her tea quietly. He would have to wait for a reply, because it wasn’t polite to talk while drinking or eating. So she took her time with the tea, even pretending to drink some even though the cup was empty. He waited, patiently until she put the cup down. She reached for a snack with her fork when he slammed both hands on the armrests of her chair, startling her.

“When a man speaks to a lady…and asks said lady a question…she…must…answer. Correct?” He said with such fierce anger, yet the smile remained on his face. She wouldn’t let him scare her. She continued to glare.

“And when a lady doesn’t like the man speaking to her, and finds him to be lesser than a gnat, then he has no power over her. Now leave me alone Nicolai.” She said sternly. Nicolai’s expression was infuriated…she didn’t know what he was going to do next, and it almost felt like he was about to strike her. She could feel it…he wanted to. He actually raised his hand when suddenly he stopped. He looked surprised and turned. Barcelona was so relieved that Gerard was at the ball, now more than ever. The butler looked slightly irritated as he twisted Nicolai’s arm behind his back, but to a passerby it looked like he was just standing behind him.

“Could said gnat have actually thought he could get away thinking such horrid thoughts. Hitting a lady…such a cowardly act for someone so high up.” Gerard said, so only they could hear. Barcelona felt her eyes widen, and saw a similar reaction from Nicolai, who was trying to see who it was. He wrenched his hand from Gerard, but the butler was crafty. Somehow he managed to get a tray with a pot of tea and walked over the Barcelona. And in an almost completely different voice he said “Would you like more tea young miss?”

She smiled, and laughed a bit. Then agreed, and soon had another piping hot cup of tea. She practically beamed as she took a sip. Nicolai was looking around, obviously confused. He didn’t want to ask her, but finally stormed off, muttering curses under his breath. Barcelona laughed a bit more.

“You’re too much sometimes Gerard! I don’t know how I’d last without having you around!” She said giddily, taking a bite of a snack. Gerard simply smiled and kissed the top of her hand.

“I’ll be on my way then…rest assured, no one will ruin this night for you.” He said, walking away, placing the tray on a table as he went. She smiled and returned to eating her food…not noticing that the butler was walking the same direction Nicolai had just gone.