I don't own anything except for Rochelle……YET (eyes Clopin suspiciously)

It was midnight in Paris. The moon glowed eerily on the houses filled with sleeping men, and the stars twinkled against the waves of the Seine. The soft wind blew loose papers across the dark streets. Even in the few houses that were dimly light, the candles were soon blown out and the windows went dark. Muffled snoring could be heard of you stopped to listen. It was peaceful.

The silence was suddenly disturbed by a harsh sound. It was the clunking echo of a woman's shoe bouncing off the walls under a bridge. Her quickening pace implied she was in a hurry. An expensive dress billowed out from underneath her dark cloak as she continued to hurry down the street. The hood draped over her head shook as her white-gloved hands pressed her cloak tightly against her. From beneath the hood several features in her face were exposed, including her long, thin nose, square jaw, and tiny mouth.

Her legs wobbled as she felt herself losing strength. Panting, she stopped to rest against the side of a building. As she threw back her hood, her blonde curls fell to her shoulders. She felt for something to lean on as she slid to the ground. Her chest heaved up and down, still gasping for breath. Her eyes widened. "Who was that?" The words were barely audible as she mumbled them to herself.

Suddenly, her eyes rested on the sight of a light. The light stood out from the darkness that surrounded everything else in the empty street.

The woman pulled herself up from the ground and began to stumble towards the light. Clutching her dress, she shivered while the wind blew passed her. Her high-heeled boots continued to thump against the cobblestones.

But her face went pale as she heard something. Slowly turning around, her ears could make out the faint sound of bounding feet running…running towards her. She screamed and turned around, running as fast as she could towards the light.

Panting and running, her eyes slowly recognized the light to actually be a candle, lighting the outside of a tavern. Her arms flying out, she threw herself against the door and fell headfirst inside the tavern.

There was a warm glow to the room. A few candles were placed along the walls. Most of the chairs were empty. Still, there were several men sitting at tables with mugs in their hands, a few intensely debating near the back of the room, and a heavy-set gypsy man washing dishes in the center of the room at the bar table. A few heads rose to look at the commotion the woman had caused. There were a few men playing cards nearest to the door. One man, who was rather thin with a long beard, looked intently as the woman for a second, only to look away and continue focusing on his game.

Her eyes circled the room. She took a few hesitant steps towards the gypsy man. His back was turned to her as he hummed a foreign tune, scrubbing the dishes.

She woman cleared her throat. "Ahem, excuse me?"

The man was startled. He turned around to face her. His greasy face shined in the candlelight. He had a scruffy beard, a stained apron, and a bandana wrapped around his head. He cracked a smile. One of his front teeth was missing. "How may I help you?"

"I'll have a glass of water." She brushed back her disheveled hair and pulled up a seat next to the man.

He nodded, but before he turned to fetch her drink, he stopped to examine her appearance. Her hair was windblown, her clothes were wrinkled and she looked out of breath. "You walk out on the street looking like that?"

"Hmm?" She looked down at herself and swallowed back her embarrassment. "Some ruffian was chasing me. I did my best to avoid him, that's all." She brushed out the creases in her gown. She wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation.

"You've got to be careful around these parts, especially at nightfall. You never know who could be lurking around." He reached for the pitcher on the table and poured her drink into a dainty cup, the most feminine one he owned. Passing it to her, she took it gratefully.

"Thank you." She took several long gulps.

He gestured to her fancy dress "You on your way to a party?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, then you must be dressed up for a fella, then?"

She wasn't as amused this time. She simply looked at him.

The man continued babbling on "You have a lot of money then, don't you?" He fished for an answer.

Her eyes narrowed. "To be honest, that's none of your business." She said frankly.

He realized he was acting too pushy. Shrugging, he went back to wiping glasses. His back turned to her.

She watched the gypsy cautiously for a few moments, still shook up from being chased. Her eyes flashed to the window, expecting the stalker to be watching her, but there was no one there. Everything was quiet besides a few scattered voices. It seemed like nothing had even happened. It was strange.

She finished the last sip of her drink and felt refreshed. She tapped the man on the shoulder. "I'm done."

He grinned again, ear to ear. "That will be seven francs."

She reached into her purse and felt around, pulling out the money. She plopped it in his dirty hand.

Feeling relaxed, she turned to leave. She hurried towards the door. Just as her hand rested on the knob, the gypsy's voice called from behind her.

"One more thing, Mademoiselle! Who did I have the honor of serving tonight?"

She smiled at him. "Rochelle. Madame Rochelle Boucher."

There was a haunting silence that lingered in the room. All eyes rose from their conversations and stared at her. Every conversation ceased. The gypsy man's smile just grew wider and wider. There must have been twenty pairs of eyes glued to her. Far more than she'd thought there were.

Rochelle bit her lip as she backed towards the wall. She felt as helpless as a wounded puppy. The man's face didn't even move as he said through clenched teeth "That's what I thought."

The color drained from her face. Her throat went dry as her heart pulsated through her chest. "Wh-What's going on?" She stuttered. There was a series of cruel chuckling that answered her.

In a fit of confusion, she dropped her purse and ran through the door as fast as she could. The door slammed behind her.

Panting as her cloak flew behind her, she felt just as she did before. She was alone and scared. She kept running and running. Sweat trickled down her forehead. The tavern was far away, now. She wanted to get even farther.

She felt a lump grow in her throat as she ran down the street. She flung out her arms as she screamed "Help! Help! Someone!" No one could hear her.

She stopped just before passing a dark alley. She rested her hands on her knees, feeling like she was about to throw up. She could hear manic laughing from behind her. She knew they were coming for her. Those gypsies in the tavern were trying to kill her…

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block everything out of her head. "Why is this happening to me?"

Before she realized it, a pair of cold hands reached out from the alley and grabbed her, pulling her into the darkness. She let out an ear-piercing shriek. A black glove rose to her mouth and muffled her cries. A tear rolled down her cheek as she continued to let out cries for help.

She stretched out her neck, trying to look the kidnapper in the eye. A sinister, masked-figure greeted her with a smile. His thin goatee brushed against her face as she felt his hot breath against her neck. His colorful voice whispered "My dear, I do believe you should think twice before wandering the streets of Paris at night."

Rochelle felt a blow to her head. In a flash, she was knocked unconscious.