Down from the sky, the rain pours, falling lightly into the curls of her hair, turning the bright auburn hue a rayless, damp, brown. Her head is weighted, tilted toward the soggy pavement beneath her feet. Droplets seep from her hairline, and cascade gently down her face; rounding gingerly over her forehead, falling from her slender brows onto her long eyelashes. As she blinks her large pale purple eyes. The water trickles down the cold flushed flesh of her fine cheeks. She breathes the cold air in slowly, allowing it pass through each passageway within her lungs before letting it back out. The sound of the rain tap dancing along the pavement blocks out all other thoughts, all but one, her destination. Only a few more miles, until the steps of the Opera Populaire are beneath her sore feet. She clenches her toes, easing some of the tension present from a full night of endless walking. Her legs cringe beneath her after she takes another step. Her thighs scream for her to stop, to just sit down, and take a momentary break. Only a little further Scarlett. Inching her feet forward she forces herself to walk, her dress scraping the pavement, the moistened ground staining the pale purple satin, and tearing it at the seams. Her favorite gown... Her mother got it for her on her sixteenth birthday. She fell in love with it the moment she laid eyes on it. She had always loved the way it hugged her figure, and then flared out farther than any other dress she owned. She adored the two layers it had: The top one split at the middle to reveal the shimmering tulle that hid underneath. When she first received it, she couldn't stop staring at the jewel encrusted sweetheart neckline it bore. She wore it on all of the special occasions. That dress was once a symbol of happiness, bliss, her mother, and her life. Now as it rips beneath her feet, soaking in the grime of the rain, turning the purple into a muddy grey, it shows what is left of all that happiness; Nothing.
The pain wells behind her eyelids. The baneful knife of remorse stabs her heart, cutting through all that once was, leaving her breath coming up hard. A droplet of her ceaseless agony runs down her face. The thought of having only a memory of her mother, left her chest constricted, bound by the memory of what once was, and left with the pain of knowing that all she has now is a ruined dress. She swallows a breath of air, stopping the sobs momentarily. An airy pain inches its way up her throat, leaving her breath short, and heavy. She looks up, her vision blurred by the tears of her despair. Where was the next turn at? Scarlett looks both ways, as her mother had taught her to do. The intersection is barren, no people, or carriages, just her. She slowly makes her way across the street, allowing her feet to drag on the gravel. She breathes in the rain.
The faint tapping of hooves sounds in the distance. Scarlett's eyes widen. Her heart pounds in her chest. She runs toward the other side of the street, tripping on a tear in her dress. She collapses onto the ground. The edge of the pavement digs into her temple. A rush of blood oozes from her wound, down the side of her face. Her head begins to spin, the world twirling. The weight of her head keeps her on the ground, in an attempt to stand she brings her arms to her sides. She pushes into the ground with her scraped palms, her body lifts slightly, only to fall back onto the pavement. A stinging pain begins to surface on her arms, and her knees. The pavement had peeled off a few layers of flesh. Blood begins to trickle lightly up her forearm. The sound of the hooves come to a violent crescendo, as the carriage draws closer. She can hear the wheels of the carriage turning. A whip slashes at the horses commanding them to go faster. Beads of sweat pour off of her forehead. She gets on all fours, and attempts to crawl, again she falls back onto the ground. Every muscle in her body crunches together. The tension in her body rises. She curls into a ball covering her head with her hands, expecting the carriage to slam against her, the impact crushing her frail bones. The carriage races down the street, then comes to a complete abrupt stop, the stallion's hooves halting just inches away from her. The horse lets out a hot breath right onto her face. Her heart continues to pound in her chest. Shaking, she lifts her arm to her side to try, and lift herself up, but her arm gives out under her own weight; leaving her lying there. The rain trickling onto her body. She blinks her long lashes steadily. She raises a shaking hand above her head to shield herself from the droplets.
A tall, slender man, emerges from the carriage. His black suit blends in with the night sky. A cape swings behind him as he rushes to the front of the carriage. He stares at Scarlett for a moment. Her small pale body soaked in the rain, immobile on the pavement. Her curls drape beneath her head, serving as a cushion to the rigid, and dank pavement. He kneels down slowly, leaning lightly over Scarlett's head.
"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" His voice is gentle. Each word floats gracefully from his lips. Scarlett allows her eyes to close momentarily comparing his voice to that of the angels that she used to believe watched her as she slept. She breathes in the sweet smell of mint that emanates off his body. She lowers her arm from her face, blinking through the rain trying to make out his features. She can see nothing, but a blur. Visions of white, facial features, pale blue eyes, and dark hair, swirl together. The weight of her eyelids begin to grow, closing slowly. Scarlett goes unconscious.
The man looks around, searching for someone nearby who could be of some assistance, but there is no one in sight. He thinks for a moment, and then he unhooks his cape, and gently wraps it over Scarlett's unconscious body. He kneels down, and carefully lifts her off of the ground, and carries her into his carriage. He lays her on the opposite bench.
"Proceed." He shouts to the coachman who whips his whip, and sends the horses galloping down the road.