Madame Giry paced on the room, her head starting to hurt. She didn't think this through, she really didn't. Now she had a boy a little older than her own daughter sleeping on her bed, a boy that was dirty, bruised and... terribly deformed. She sighed.
Only one person in the whole world could make Antoinette Giry accept to do such an insane thing. She made her promise. Promise to get the boy out of there, promise to not let anyone ever know. Madame Giry promised, but she did not promise to take care of him after leaving. She only wanted him out of that terrible place, she even said she could leave him anywhere as long as he was out of there.
Still, as the boy followed her with unbelievable trust, Madame Giry found herself unable to just leave him anywhere, in any street where he could be an easy target for who knows who.
She paced faster. What would she do now? The boy could not stay, not with Meg there. The last thing Madame Giry wanted was for her to met with such a... a person. She worried about her only daughter being with a boy she barely knew, and worried about what meeting someone as damaged as him would mean for her childish innocence.
With a sigh, Madame Giry sat down on the bed beside where the boy lay. He was a child just like Meg, but for what she could see (and have been told) he never was given the right to have that innocence. Her mother heart ached at the mere thought of what if it was her child who had to grow up like that. And that's the moment she knew she could not simply abandon this boy alone.
Maybe he felt her presence closer, because he suddenly opened his eyes, and stared at her for a moment before standing up and running across the room. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Madame Giry was glad for remembering to do it. She stood up, but kept some distance.
"Where am I?", he asked in a shaky voice.
"In my house.", she replied, her voice quiet. It was late, and she did not want to wake Meg up or to alert her neighbors.
"Why am I here?", he seemed to press himself against he door, his back facing Madame Giry, and his skinny body trembled.
He must have been so tired when she walked him there, she thought, that he did not even remember it. The moment she left him on the bed he fell asleep.
Still, she did not have an answer for why.
"Mother... Mother!", he shouted. Madame Giry took one step in his direction.
"Quiet!", she harshly whispered.
He ran to the corner, head lowered, still with his back to Madame Giry. One arm on the wall, the other around himself. She noticed he seemed to be expecting to be hit.
"Calm down. You shouldn't be afraid of me.", she whispered, softly. "I am not going to hurt you."
"Liar.", he mumbled, and fell to the floor, kneeling down now facing Madame Giry. He covered his face with his hands and cried. "I need to be with mother... she can't be alone..."
"You can't.", Madame Giry said, pain in her voice. This was not an easy thing to tell a child.
"She doesn't want me around, right?", he raised his face. "She doesn't want to have to look at me again."
"She wants you safe.", she explained. "Away from the fair."
"Away from her.", he added.
Madame Giry kneeled down in front of him. His mother's denial of seeing him one last time before they parted forever seemed to prove this theory. So, she could not bring herself to agree with or deny it.
"Why did you bring me here? What are you doing to me now?", he asked, his voice again unsure and full of fear.
"I am taking you somewhere safe." She did not think before speaking, her words coming out on their own. Another promise, and now she had to think of where this safe place could be.
He looked directly into her eyes, as if deciding if he should trust this woman that came from nowhere and took him away from the life he knew.
"You don't have to do this."
"I know. But I will."
And with these words, Madame Giry reached her hand out for him.