My name is Pierre. I am 25 years old. I was a peasant during the French revolution and moreover I was the man that ran the guillotine. I thought I had it all figured out. I never expected what happened next to happen.
She was my childhood best friend. She was a seamstress and her name, if you can believe it was... is Paris. I had to make a choice. It was a choice that would cost me highly in pains and in other penalties but it was the only choice I could make.
Paris was number 23. She was right before a young man who I later would come to know and honor as a dear friend. That time however was not come yet. I took her hair and tied it back so that she would not have it in the way of the guillotine. I tried not to look at her because my heart was falling to pieces. How could I say farewell to my dearest friend. Looking around I made a quick decision. I could not let her die. I could not lose my dear friend... the girl who I loved so much but could never let her know. So what did I do?
I asked for just a moment. I claimed that I was tired and needed a quick rest. They accepted my story. They had no cause to doubt it. Paris looked frightened and at the same time calm. She said a prayer. I went back around the guillotine and dismantled it then broke it into pieces motioning for the prisoners to save themselves. They needed no prompting.
Because of my crimes against the republic I was tried and sentenced to the whip. Lash after lash fell upon my back. To say it hurt would be a gross understatement. It was probably the worst pain I ever felt. Did I care? No. I had the benefit of knowing that my Paris was safe. I do not know where she is but I know that dreadful guillotine did not take her life. I chose love and have no regret about my choice
Disclaimer: I don't own TALE OF TWO CITIES