Hello! Just a word of friendly warning. As any Penny Dreadful fan would know, the overall storyline is not a light-hearted one. This story is no exception. There will be some not very nice moments down the road, so if you don't like dark themes, this isn't the story for you.

With that said, I hope you enjoy chapter 1.

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London

Beret McGrane looked on as the body of Sigrid, her mother, was loaded onto a dusty wooden cart.

"Here," she said, handing the man her only remaining pound. "See her buried."

"Right, love."

She didn't bother to watch as the cart rolled away. It wasn't as if her mother was still in the body. In fact, a little part of Beret wondered why she cared so much.

Sigrid had always been cruel to her. Then again, Beret was no stranger to cruelty. Her father was a horrid drunk. He passed on when she was a child, but not before beating her within an inch of her life. Beret had a nasty scar as a constant reminder, but she didn't really need to be reminded of her apparently wretched status, as she always had her darling mother for that.

That vile woman didn't go a single week without taking her misery out on her child. If she didn't beat her with her fists, she did so with her words. In a way, that was the only act of kindness she ever bestowed upon Beret. She taught her daughter to read and write so she would be able to repeatedly write down all the insults her mother had instructed her to.

The two of them ran out of money after the death of Beret's father, so they had no choice but to live on the streets of London and beg for coins. They were barely able to keep from starving, and even if they were lucky enough to finish a day with full stomachs, some days would be harder than others.

Beret's stomach twisted as she remembered one particularly hard day about a year earlier. She had just turned sixteen. Sigrid felt that they were not getting enough money, so without Beret's knowledge, she arranged for a man to pay her a hefty sum…but it came at a large price. Beret didn't realize what had happened until the man had dragged her to a dark alley and roughly shoved her facedown into the dirt. All the poor girl could do was wait until it was over.

She never forgave her mother for allowing that beast to do that to her. Sigrid never showed an ounce of remorse for it, and even blamed Beret for it.

"If it wasn't for you, that wouldn't have been necessary," she had told her child. "You're nothing but a waste of space and breath."

Beret couldn't help but smile at the irony.

Well, Mother, if I was the waste, why am I still here while you are gone?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Please…you have to give me some room."

Dr. Victor Frankenstein put the scalpel down on his table next to Brona's corpse. After taking a moment to compose himself, he looked up at Caliban, his "firstborn" creation.

"Your constant staring and looking over my shoulder will not make me work any faster. In fact, it will only serve to slow me down."

Caliban glanced away before responding.

"Why must it take so long?"

Victor had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He stepped back for a moment and grabbed a damp rag, wiping the grime from his fingers.

"Not to sound cross, but constructing someone from a corpse and bringing it to life isn't easy, and it isn't a quick process either. If one thing goes wrong with her, everything could be shot to hell."

Though Caliban knew his creator had a good point, he couldn't bear the thought of having to wait longer than he already had. The doctor read his expression and slowly approached him.

"I made you a promise," he said sincerely, reaching up to place a hand on Caliban's shoulder, "and I intend to keep it. You just have to be patient. Why don't you read some of your books to pass the time?"

"I have read them all ten times through," the creature replied, stepping away in frustration. "And no amount of reading can prepare me for what I've been denied for so long. Even when the time comes, how will I know what to do? It's as if I need to learn a new language for her."

Victor took in what Caliban was saying. An idea suddenly struck him. While it was an immoral thought, it would only be temporary. He went to the side of the room and took his coat, grabbing Caliban's in the process.

"What are you doing?" the creature asked.

"Come with me," the doctor said, handing his creation his black coat. "I think I know what to do about this."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The numbness still hadn't left Beret's body, even after a few hours had passed. She had often thought about what her life would be like without her mother to torment her. It was an awful thing to consider, but she simply couldn't help it. However, now that the time had finally come, she found herself unsure.

What should she do now? She didn't have any sort of schooling or proper reputation, so obtaining a regular job was out of the question. The only dress she owned was dirty and nearly in pieces. Who would hire someone like her?

But she had no money. She had to get more, or she would starve to death. Deep down, Beret knew the path she would have to travel down, but she didn't want to think about it. The very idea of being used by countless men and then thrown away like an old handkerchief disgusted her. What happened to her once before was bad enough, but the thought of going through it over and over again every day was too much to bear. But she didn't see any other way.

Why did it have to be like this?

The tears escaped Beret's eyes before she could stop them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Why are we out here?" Caliban asked.

"Look around," Victor replied, gesturing to the slightly run-down streets of London. "There are women everywhere. I want you to pick one."

"What for?"

"Think of it as a temporary distraction. Pick a woman, and I will bring her to you. Busy yourself with her until I finish your companion." He looked at the creature and saw the reluctance in his face. "Go on. It can be any woman you want, but make sure she a commoner. She'll unlikely be missed by anyone."

"Frankenstein, I…I don't know about this."

"There's an old saying: practice makes perfect. By doing this, you can prepare yourself for when your bride is ready. So go ahead. Pick one."

Caliban tentatively looked out and observed everyone. There were plenty of pretty women all around the streets, but none of them were all that special to him. Nothing about them stood out, and that simply wouldn't do.

Then, suddenly, he saw her.

On the other side of the street, there was a young woman leaning against the wall. She didn't look to be any older than twenty. Her dress was worn, and her long black hair was frizzy and snarled. Despite all this, the thing that captured Caliban's attention was the streams of tears running down her face. Caliban glanced down, feeling a tugging sensation in his gut. He found himself wanting to wipe away her tears, to make her smile. After a few seconds, he looked back at her and pointed a pale finger in her direction.

"Her."

Victor followed his creation's gaze and saw the weeping peasant girl near the wall.

"Very well," he said, nodding at Caliban. "I'll fetch her tonight."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Before too long, it was dark. Beret clutched the torn fragments of her dress in an effort to keep herself warm. A small part of her wished one of the people walking by would take pity on her, but no such luck. She seemed to be out of that luxury. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

I won't waste any more tears on her.

"Good evening, miss."

Beret glanced up. A young man, perhaps a few years older than her, was looking down at her from where she was seated on the walkway. He looked to be well off, and he was certainly much cleaner than she was.

"Evening, sir," she answered.

The man disappeared down the street. A strong gust of cold wind nearly knocked the girl over, and she turned her back to the direction it was coming from. Her insides were warmed from the stranger's act of kindness, but at the same time, the weather outweighed the warmth.

All of a sudden, everything went black.

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Let me know what you think so far.