AN: Dear me, this is a suprise, all ya'll comin' round just for little old me...lol, yea, slipped into a bit of southern belle mode there (gotta stop hanging around with my much loved but southern friend, she's rubbing off on me). So, long time no see, eh? I've been working on these a while, all break...still don't like it much, but after much prompting, decided to give up rewriting it a billion times, lol. So here it is, the prequel to Back to Brooklyn (or we could just make these easy and say it's the first story in the mouse and spot series, whatever works for you). Well, enough with me, read on darlings, read on!
P.S. The title of this story is temporary, it most likely will change so be on alert.
Prologue
A young girl spun around in front of the mirror, watching as her pink satin dress twirled in rhythm with her bouncing chocolate brown curls. Her sister let out a small cry.
"Marie will you stop moving! You made me prick my finger again," snapped her sister Christine, as she attempted to fix the hem on her sister's dress.
"Oh I can't help it Christine. I'm just so excited!" she squealed, spinning again. It was New Years Eve and this was the first time she was allowed to go to the party, instead of being stuck in her room with a grumpy nanny. Her sister let out a cry again.
"Marie!" she screeched. Marie turned around, grinning sheepishly.
"Oops."
Christine sighed, "Just stand still." Marie nodded and turned back to the mirror. My, my, my, I do look most grown up, she thought to herself. Like a real lady. She smiled at the mirror, prodding at her curls, attempting to distract herself to keep from moving too much. A clap of thunder startled Marie and she jumped. Christine winced but said nothing, knowing it wasn't her sister's fault.
"Oh, it's raining even harder Christine, what if the party is cancelled?" asked Marie.
"It won't be," said Christine absently, brow furrowed in concentration. She stood up, sticking the string and needle into her pocket. "There you go, done. Now you can spin as much as you want," she said. Marie smiled at her sister, taking a quick spin. Christine returned the gesture. The girl could be a hassle sometimes, but she could also be so adorable.
From downstairs, the chiming of the doorbells floated upstairs. Marie squealed in delight, "It must be the guests!" and took off towards the door. Christine caught her mid leap, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back.
"Oh no you don't, missy. Mother wants you up here so you don't get in the way of any preparations," said Christine sternly, shaking her finger.
Marie's face dropped in anguish. "But the guests…" she begged.
"Are not here yet," finished Christine. "It's much too early. It must have been a delivery at the door." Marie crossed her arms, pouting, and plopped onto a stool.
- - - -
"Richard would you get that," called Heather, Marie's mother, from the stove where she stood stirring a delicious smelling soup. The man grumbled but the chair squeaked, signifying his removal from it, followed by the light pat of his stocking feet trudging towards the door.
A moment later, Heather heard him return.
"Who was it dear?" she asked, picking up an empty pot from the sink, reaching for a towel to dry it. There was no reply. She spun around, annoyance flashing through her eyes.
"Richard it's terribly rude not to…." She stopped mid sentence when her eyes fell upon the tall, brutish man in front of her who was not her husband. She screamed weakly and the pan clattered to the floor.
- - - -
Marie jumped up from her seat.
"What was that?" she asked nervously, the sound of her mother's cry still ringing in her ears.
"Oh nothing dear," said Christine. "Mother is with child, you know, she probably had another pain…but I should go check on her anyway." Christine turned toward the door.
"I'll be back, don't move," she said sternly, and walked out and down the stairs.
"Mother? Are you alright?" asked Christine, reaching her head around the corner of the stairway. When her mother did not answer, she began to worry.
"Mother?" she cried out meekly, walking with a hastened step into the kitchen. She opened her mouth once again to call out but stopped at the sight of her mother in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor. She gasped, a small cry escaping her throat. It was then she felt a warm breath on the back of her neck. She spun around, eyes wide with terror, as she came face to face with a built man with dirty brown hair and a small but fresh scar along his lower jaw. His cracked lips twisted into a cruel grin.
"Hello Doll," he said, his foul breath of smoke and alcohol stinging her eyes. She bit her lip, common sense begging her to scream, but she couldn't manage to even open her mouth. She stood trembling before him, eyes darting around rapidly, looking for a way of escaping. It was at this point she noticed a flash of pink at the bottom of the stairwell. She flicked her eyes back to that spot and to her horror she saw her young sister gaping and wide eyed, a look of sheer terror on her face, clearly frozen with fear. Christine hiccupped, the result of a failed attempt to choke back a cry. As her mind began to clear, the original fear subsiding, she found her thoughts occupied with finding a way to save herself and her sister. The man took a step closer.
"What are you lookin at girl," he asked sharply. Christine didn't answer. The man's face began to redden. He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the wall.
"Girl, I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it," he growled, bringing his face up close to hers. She gagged from the stench, leaning forward, hands wrapped around her stomach. He shoved her head back up, harder this time.
"ANSWER ME WHEN I ASK YOU A QUESTION GODDAMNIT!" he hollered, face as red as a tomato, eyes raging with fury. Christine blinked, feeling dizzy and nauseous from the odor and the throbbing headache at the back of her head. She looked up at him dazed, but with fierce determination in her heart to save.
"Oh nothing," she sputtered. "Just have a little something for you..." She narrowed her eyes and lauched a large amount of spit straight into his eyes. He cursed and slapped her across the cheek, furiously wiping at his eyes. Christine saw her chance. She lauched her self toward the stairs, yelling for Marie to run, who turned at took off up the stairs, and followed after her. She'd made it halfway up the stairs when a large arm wrapped itself around her neck, yanking her backwards. Every bit of common sense left in her clouded state of mind screamed for her to yell, to make some kind of noise, anything, but she held it back, for the sake of her sister. She let out a soft whimper to satisfy the pain now shooting through her side and up her spine, closed her eyes, and surrendered herself to the darkness, hoping for all the world, Marie would not look back.
- - - -