I feel like I have to explain some things before anyone starts this story. This is rater R for many reasons. If you're offended by father/daughter rape, beating of women, or violent murders, I suggest you turn back now. This isn't a light story. It's going to start out slow but it will pick up. I can't promise anything light or fluffy romance wise but I can guarantee that Erik is a lot different then he is in my other story. This is based mostly off events that happened in the book, minus Erik crawling into a hole and dying. With that said, I leave you, my wonderful reader.
"I can't do this," she whispered. The streets were dark and bustling with activity. She felt her fathers prodding finger dig into her back.
"You will do as I say or I will be forced to bring harm to your person," he said, his thick Irish accent a troubling contrast to the Parisian voices that floated past them. It held a tonal quality which sent shivers down Rose Amelia's back. She was a young girl, nineteen years of age, her appearance tired and haggard from the life she had lived up until this point.
She came from Waterford, a city in Ireland. There had been no money in their household, her father a raging alcoholic and her mother a common whore. She had two younger brothers who did nothing but steal from their neighbors and local merchants who had just as little as them. She remembered often scolding them; Rose was the only one who would do it. At a young age she'd learned that the world was cruel and uncaring, a place of hurt and suffering. Her father, Seamus Brady, was an evil man who did nothing but abuse her family and took advantage of a younger Rose. Her brothers slept in the same room, never stirring, although she was sure they knew what went on. He had forced himself upon her the first few times, her resistances futile. By the time she had turned ten, she learned to just let it happen. If she just let her father do what he wanted he would leave more quickly.
The thought of leaving home had never crossed her mind the whole time they lived in Waterford. Where would she have gone? She had no title, nothing to her name except disgrace. Who would give a woman work anyway? When the world had seemed to be at its worst everything began to fall apart.
One night, while her father was having his way with her, he told her they were leaving.
"What about mother and my brothers?" she had asked. The smile that her father gave her that night was imbedded in her mind forever. It was dripping with satisfaction and pride.
"They will not be coming with us," he had answered and climbed off her. Rose had not liked the way her father had looked so she followed him. Her steps were light and silent. She approached her parent's small room and peered inside. What she saw sickened her. Inside, her father held a long, jagged knife, fresh blood adorning the blade. Rose's mother's throat was slit. Later, as her father dragged her onto a sea bound vessel, he told her of how he'd slit her brothers throats before spending time with her.
"You bastard," Rose had fumed.
"Your disrespect will change nothing," Seamus had snapped and shoved his daughter against a cabin wall.
When they arrived in Paris Rose had been sick, and the shack her father found for them to stay in did nothing to help her get over the ailment. The only thing that had filled her with hope was the fact that they were in a new place; maybe this would be her chance to get away. That did not happen. Instead her father waited until she had gotten better and took the streets. This is where she found herself now.
They were in a seedy part of Paris. Not so bad off that people didn't like walking through it. It was more nostalgic to the upper class then dangerous. Upper class is what her father wanted; they would pay the most for a young woman in the prime of her life. Rose was an attractive woman, her face pleasant and kind. Her hair was a fiery red, a startling difference to the rest of her family who had brown hair. Her eyes were a deep brown, her lips full and well shaped. She was malnourished, her clothes barely fitting her.
"I can't," she said again, trying to defy her father but failing. Her father turned her towards him and grabbed her roughly by the arms.
"You will do as I say bitch! We came here to escape from the past and unless you want me frequenting your bedroom again you will sell yourself! You will do this for me and not complain!" Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on her face. She wanted to wipe it off but her arms were pined to her sides.
"Do we understand?" Seamus asked as he brought Rose's face close to his own. Rose nodded. His nails dug into her arm.
"Yes father," she managed to get out. He let her go and shoved her towards a group of men who had been eyeing her ever since they'd arrived. She did not turn around as Seamus yelled,
"Paris waits!"