This chapter is dedicated to a particularly impressive reviewer by the name of Jo Nahmanaick! Thanks also to all my other lovely reviewers and subscribers! Ya'll rock!

Hold on to the world we all remember fighting for

There's still strength left in us yet

Hold on to the world we all remember dying for

There's still hope left in it yet

The snow on your face and your razor blades,

Twilight is bruised and there you lie.

~Flyleaf "Arise"

The next day passed without incident, and Eloise saw neither hide nor hair of Jonah, which was just as well. She was like a ghost, seemingly invisible whilst coming and going to and from work without the notice of Aikman or his gloomy apprentice.

On the day after, late in her shift, Eloise kneaded her sore, stiff muscles at the back of her neck in an attempt to alleviate the cricks that accompanied night after night of sleeping in an awkward, ninety degree angle. Thankfully the minor pains were all that ailed her so far. She was terrified at the thought of catching pneumonia or some other illness brought on by the cold.

At last she was finished with the mopping, and picked up her bucket to dump out the dirty water. She made her way to the back of the house and opened the door.

A blast of cold air hit her and she quickly carried the mop and bucket down the steps. She threw the contents of the bucket into a patch of partially melted snow beside the stairs, and wrung out the mop. A small mewling sound caught her attention and she glanced down to find a stray cat perched at her feet.

It was a scrawny little thing with patchy gray fur and a shredded left ear. He had large, olive green eyes and a black nose with a tiny splotch of pink.

Eloise smiled at the pitiful thing as he rubbed up against her leg, shedding gray as he did so. A low, rhythmic purr began to rumble in it's belly.

"Sorry kitty. I ain't got any food for ya." She said sympathetically, taking note of the feline's visible ribcage. "You poor, little thing."

At this, the cat, stepped back and hissed at Eloise, ears flattened and fangs showing. Eloise was taken aback. "Well, what's wrong with you, now? Didn't hurt yer feelings did I?"

The cat replied with another hiss. "Suit yourself." She said, and stuck out her tongue.

She walked back up the steps and opened the door. With a shrill yowl, the feral feline jumped up behind her and dashed inside, disappearing down the hall.

"No, no wait! Stupid cat." She quickly shut the door and chased after him into the living room.

She cursed under her breath. "Where'd you go, you nasty little beast?"

Another growl drew her eyes to an arm chair that sat in the corner of the room. She waited, listening for the cat to give away its position. In the hall, a door slammed shut.

The tomcat screeched and flew out from under the chair. Eloise made a lunge for him, but only succeeded in throwing herself to her knees, swiping at thin air. Someone's throat cleared, and Eloise looked up quickly to find Ramsey Aikman looming over her, his mouth set in the usual grim line.

"What on earth was that?" he demanded, glaring down at the girl.

"…A cat, sir." She replied hesitantly, still kneeling on the floor.

"You brought a cat in here?"

"I didn't do it on purpose! He just let himself in!" she protested. "I've been tryin' to catch him, but he's just too fast."

"I want him gone before I return." He said gruffly.

"Return, sir?" she asked curiously, suddenly realizing that she was still down on the floor, looking like a fool. Her cheeks gained the slightest tint of red as she straightened herself.

"I've errands to run. Ask Jonah to assist you."

Ask Jonah? Eloise bit her lip. She wasn't sure if she was ready to approach him again after the last incident, and probably never would be. She nodded nonetheless, as Aikman turned to leave.

After she was sure that he had left, she walked out into the hall to call for Jonah. But as always, he was already there, cradling the decrepit cat in his arms.

"Jo- oh." She stopped herself short. "I see you found the cat."

The mangy thing drew back its lips and snarled at her, ears flattened against its head. It recoiled into Jonah's chest and Eloise glared. "Oh, that's your game, hmm?"

Jonah stood idly with the stray, clearly confused. "Uh, what- what's all this?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "That cat 'n I got some business." She said, still glowering at the feline.

Jonah stared. "…You're making fun of me, right?"

"No." she said with the utmost seriousness. "Gimme the cat."

It snarled at her once more, green eyes narrowing in hatred. Eloise scooped the cat from Jonah's arms and held it against her chest, ignoring the low, feral growls. With a shriek, its claws swiped at her, tearing her flesh.

Eloise hissed in pain, and dropped the cat, which scrambled off into the next room. Her hand clutched at her neck where the cat had struck her. Wasting no time, she sprinted after her assailant, chasing him around the room until she eventually cornered him between a side table and an armchair. Wordlessly, she grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and held it aloft, well away from her body. She carried it to the back door and tossed the beast out into the yard, where it landed on its feet, threw Eloise one last hateful glance and skittered away in a huff.

She slammed the door shut and grimaced, feeling the pain throb in her neck. She pressed a hand to the cuts, realizing that the warm, stickiness that oozed from it must be blood. She turned about, nearly colliding with Jonah. He stared down at her with an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"Let me look at it." He said quietly, gently pulling her hand away from the wound. He frowned. "It drew blood."

Eloise huffed, placing on arm across her chest. "Of course he did. Mean little rat."

"You should clean this." Jonah said. "I'll help you."

Before she could protest, he had ushered her into the nearest bathroom and sat her down on a small bench that was used to place clothes and towels. Wordlessly, he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few clean rags. Kneeling beside her, he dabbed a bit of the alcohol on a rag and pressed the cloth against the girl's scratch.

A small yelp escaped her lips and she flinched. Jonah pulled back. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "No, no. I knew it was coming. Just get it over with."

Tentatively, he brought the rag back to her skin, dabbing up the blood. She bit her lip as the already throbbing cut began to sting like a mother.

This continued for a few moments, until finally, Jonah capped the bottle of alcohol and began scooping up the bloodied rags.

Eloise stood, brushing off her dress, and glanced down at Jonah, who was still on the floor. He started to rise but she placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. She knelt beside him and gently pecked his cheek.

"Thank you." She said, refusing to look at him. "I should go make dinner now."

XxXxXxX

Her dreams that night were unspeakably terrifying. The first thing she was conscious of was that she was lying on her back, staring up at an impossibly dirty ceiling. The next thing was that the only part of her body she could move was her head.

Thick leather straps were clasped tightly around her wrists and ankles, and two more were tactfully placed across her bare chest and hips. She pulled at the straps, which only grew tighter as she struggled, cutting off her circulation.

Ramsey Aikman seeped out of a shadowy corner of the room

Blood filled her throat and mouth, as she squirmed. She tried to scream for them to stop, but the blood gurgled and spat everywhere. This earned her another deep incision down her left thigh and a scream tore from her chest.

Aikman pulled away and walked up behind her where she could no longer see him. Tears streaming, she looked at Jonah imploringly. His face remained deadpan. Silently he approached the table on which she lay and climbed atop it, straddling her hips.

He raised his arm, a small glint of metal held in his hand; another scalpel. His electric blue eyes bore into her with complete apathy as he brought the scalpel down hard.

XxXxXxX

The next day she awoke with a deep depression and longing for her family. She wanted her daddy, and her sister, and she especially wanted her traitorous mother. After she scraped up some money, she went out and purchased a breakfast of lukewarm soup from a vendor in the streets.

She shuffled through the half-melted snow and slush, eventually arriving in front of St. Bernadette's.

She made her way inside, where a nun ushered her into the head office and asked her to wait for Sister Mary Grace to speak with her.

She stood with her arms wrapped around her chest, waiting with bleak hope as Sister Mary Grace entered the office, looking decidedly grim.

"Sister Mary Grace." Eloise nodded in greeting. "Is something wrong? Has Emily been fightin' again?"

Her gray face retained its troubled expression. "No dear one. I must ask you to sit down, for this may shock you."

Eloise's brow furrowed in confusion and anxiety. "Yessum." She said compliantly, and took a seat across from the elderly sister.

"Miss Eloise, child. It brings me sorrow to bear this news to you. Your sister… has been adopted."

A lump rose in her throat; it was her heart, she supposed, for it was thumping so loudly it was nearly deafening. It couldn't be so. Her last relative; stolen away from her without ever saying goodbye.

"We tried to contact you but you, but we were told that your father moved out of his apartment, and left no forwarding address. I also sent word to your place of work just minutes before you arrived, but I suppose that was quite redundant since you're here now." The nun paused for a moment then continued on. "They're a particularly nice family with money to spare. You can rest assured that she will be well taken cared of in her new home. Would you like the address? I'm sure they'd be glad to let you visit her!"

Eloise slumped back in the chair, processing the old woman's words. Her place of work. That meant Aikman and Jonah would find out she was homeless, and they'd laugh at her for sure. They'd see her as some pathetic vagabond and fire her worthless self. Or worse, what if they felt sorry for her? What if every look they cast in her direction was full of pity and shame? She could never return to work like that. Her pride wouldn't let her. Never, never-

"Miss Eloise, where exactly are you residing now?" Sister Mary Grace's voice broke her disparaging reverie.

Eloise's face slackened and she stared up at Sister Mary Grace with a look that could only be described as empty. "Nowhere." She deadpanned. "I've haven't got any real place to stay."

The old woman's wrinkled mouth formed a perfect "O". "My dear girl! Why haven't you said anything before! Eloise- where are you going?"

The girl had risen from her chair and shuffled aimlessly to the door, ignoring the nun as if in a trance. Hand resting on the knob of the door, she mumbled darkly in reply: "Southern pride. Won't take charity from no one. Raised that way."

She left without another word. She would never return to the orphanage.

XxXxXxX

The majority of the snow may have melted, but the slush and filth of the sidewalk ice still remained. Several times Eloise lost her balance and landed on her backside, which would smart for days to come.

Like a zombie, she walked adrift in the streets without rhyme or reason. Directionless and blank-faced. For hours she walked until her legs were sore and throbbing, and could walk no more. She found a place to sit a few meters from a street corner and slumped against the brick of a building wall. She sat, sore and numb from the cold.

A scraggly rat feasted on a scrap of garbage from a nearby can which had been overturned, its contents spilled onto the grimy slush and ice.

Eloise's stomach growled. She hadn't eaten anything since that morning. It was dark now, and no one was selling food at this hour. No one she could afford.

At first, when there was no longer any feeling in her toes, she almost made herself get up and go back to St. Bernadette's, where at least it was warm. But then, after a while, she didn't mind it. And the more she thought about how alone she really was, she wanted it to come. She welcomed the enveloping darkness that slowly edged in her vision and soon, her whole body relaxed, unmoving. In the end, it didn't really matter anymore. If she stayed in the horrid shack for much longer, she'd have died soon anyway.

Maybe she'd see Michael where she was going.

XxXxXxX

A pale yellowed ceiling greeted her vision when her eyes fluttered open. Heaven was particularly warm, she decided, and looked an awful lot like the Aikman house. She sucked in a breath and sighed.

Without warning, Ramsey Aikman's fearsome face suddenly appeared over hers, yet it was not angry, nor was it jovial. In fact, he appeared to be a tad fatherly. After a moment, when he seemed to be sure that she was conscious, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Miss Cross. We need to talk about your housing situation."

A/N Le gasp! What shall await or heroine now? I know I'm slow in getting to the gory parts, but they're comin! Pinky promise! Please review! Thanks much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!