There should have been something, anything, to warn me that night. Something to alert me to his sudden change of mood that would lead him to throw me out of the cellar via the Rue Scribe. But I was an idiot and I suppose above all that was my greatest mistake. Constantly asking him why he was dressing up. For gods sake I was only eight. But Erik, so much older, and not so much wiser than I, was sick of me that night.
"Why don't you just leave?" He screamed loudly, rattling the music on the piano. I edged backwards, tears flooding my eyes like waterfalls.
"Brother?"
His arms locked around me and tossed me into the Rue Scribe. Locking the gate and locking me out forever.
My eyes searched frantically in the dead of a Paris night. The water had soaked my favorite dress and I was cold and alone. And for a young girl, that was the worst fate that anyone could've handed me.
"Come here beautiful..."
And my screams pierced the very fabric of the night sky, ripping it asunder and destroying its beauty forever.