A chilly wind blew fiercely through the sleeping city of Paris. The stormy clouds hung menacingly above the buildings, threatening to unleash a downpour at any given second.
Under a bridge, Montparnasse sat, watching as the wind swept the trees into a violent frenzy, lightening flashing threateningly across the sky, and waited for the coming storm.
He was sure it would begin to rain soon, and yet he did not leave the spot at which he sat. He sighed and stared off into the sky, thinking about nothing in particular. He wondered how long it had been since he had sat under this very bridge with the rest of Patron-Minette one dark night, planning an assault.
He sighed at the memory and thought about where the rest of the wretches he had acquainted himself with had gone. A loud clap of thunder echoed across the city and Montparnasse felt the need to leave the place immediately, though he had no idea why he might need to leave.
He stood quickly and began walking towards the main street, striding along at a steady pace. The street was empty save for a few passersby. Montparnasse felt the first drops cold on his shoulders, and quickened his pace. The drops became bigger and began soaking through his clothing, prompting him to speed up even more so.
He approached the tenement in which he had stayed before he had gone to the barricades. A flash of lightening lit up the street for a brief second, brief enough for Montparnasse to catch a glimpse of a man slinking across the wall of a building, previously concealed by the night.
Montparnasse could have sworn he recognized the man, but paid him no mind and continued walking. He entered the tenement and mounted the stairs until he came to his room. He stared silently at the door to his room, not moving, scarcely breathing. He then remembered that after this whole ordeal, he certainly didn't have his key.
He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and whirled around stealthily. There behind him he saw the porter of the tenement, in his night clothes, holding a candle, and looking extremely tired.
"Eh? Is that you boy? I didn't know if you was comin' back, lad! You sure is lucky you paid for this here room in advance, you are! After this month I was gonna sell your room! Many people have been askin' about it, you know!"
Montparnasse ignored him and took off down the hallway, out into the storm once more.
"Now where is you goin', boy?" the porter called after him, shaking his head.
Montparnasse didn't hear, nor did he care, for he was already outside, turning into a dark alley. He walked down to the end of this alley and stopped before a brick wall. He then bent down and counted 4 bricks to the left and 6 bricks up. He pulled the corresponding brick out, placing it beside him. He then thrust his hand into the hole this created and groped blindly until he found what he was looking for.
Upon withdrawing his hand, one could see that he was firmly grasping a key, the key to his room. Quickly, he replaced the brick and stood, turning on his heel and making a dash for the tenement.
He opened the front door and found his way to his room, heaving slightly and leaving a wet trail across the floor. He turned the key in the knob and entered his room, almost cautiously, stumbling blindly in the near-darkness. He tripped on something on the ground and landed on the floor with a loud thud.
Montparnasse stood, cursing and rubbing his head. He walked slowly towards his dresser, his eyes beginning to be accustomed to the meager light that was visible in his room. He lit a candle on his dresser and looked down at his soggy, muddy clothing. With a slight cough, he tore the clothes off and tossed them in a slapdash fashion into a corner.
He changed into a new, dry set of clothes and flopped onto his bed, sighing, happy to at least be out of the damp streets and frigid air of Paris. He stared at the ceiling, thinking.
The last time he had had a bed to sleep in had been a while before, at the Fauchelevant's home. He shuddered, thinking about Cosette's hateful words, fists clenching at his sides. He had obeyed her wishes, and hadn't returned to their home.
Despite his anger, he found himself wondering where Cosette and her kind old father were, what they were doing, how their lives were without him there to preoccupy them. They were probably well on their way to England by now.
Finding no trace of comfort from the ceiling, he turned on his side, and stared at the wall. A flash of lightening illuminated the room for a split second, revealing slash marks and bloodstains on the walls. This also held no consolation, causing him to roll over as thunder bellowed outside and shook the building viciously.
There in the other corner was his knife gleaming menacingly in the candle light that only lit up that one side of the room. Dismayed, Montparnasse blew out the candle, and, finding absolutely no placation in the room whatsoever, closed his eyes.
Wind whistled eerily outside, rain pounded on the roof, the building shook, the thunder roared, the floors creaked, the room smelled of smoke from the doused candle, and all Montparnasse could see was, in his minds eye, the image of the knife gleaming in the corner, the bloodstained and slashed walls, and Cosette's face, full of melancholy, the first day he had met her.
It was just too much for dear 'Parnasse and he sat up, shaking madly and yelled "Enough!". As if frightened that he might release some wrath upon it, the rain seemed to slow, and no thunder could be heard, nor lightening seen. "What is happening to me?" Montparnasse thrust his arms up in frustration.
Obviously unable to sleep, he grabbed his coat and put his knife into his pocket carefully, the essence of what might have been a slight smile on his face.
A flash of lightening filled the room as he made his way to the door. He didn't quite know what he was going to do, but he had to do something before he went completely insane; though he couldn't say at the moment that he was even still clinging to sanity. In an emotional rage he stomped out of his room, slamming the door behind him as the last echoes of thunder reverberated through Paris.
