So, I've been reading GWTW FF for awhile now. After much pondering, I've decided to risk it and attempt to write GWTW FF. I finished reading and seeing GWTW almost 2 months ago. I fell in love with both the book and movie. Now, I am an obsessed fan.

So this idea popped into my head yesterday and I finished the final draft just now. I apologize for any kind of mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GWTW

Prologue

Out of all the horrible things that she could ever do, Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler never thought that she would ever stoop down this low.

After he had left her, Scarlett didn't know what to do with her life. She had never realized in all their years together—before and after they were married—that she had depended on him for support. His constant assistance and admiration was overwhelming—had she been blind to it all this time?

Oh, how she missed him! There was not a day that her thoughts didn't wander to him. The feel of his strong arms around her tiny waist as he murmured sweet nothings into her ear; his breath smelling of brandy and cigars; those hot, sweet lips trailing over her skin…

No. She must not think of him now. Not now, not ever. Especially when she had work to do.

Depressed, she had found shelter and solace in one of the most masculine enticing places on earth:

A sporting house.

But it wasn't just any sporting house. No, for it belonged to none other than Atlanta's most despised woman:

Belle Watling.

Scarlett remembered the afternoon when she had chosen to commit the remainder of her life to the career. A cold wind had tossed her thick locks all around despite the black crêpe bonnet that was tightly tied at her chin. She had felt pebbles cut through her thin slippers; every step had felt like walking on fragments of broken glass. A hooded figure in a sky-blue, velvet cloak had seen her and gently guided her towards the back entrance of the sporting house.

The stench of alcohol and smoke immediately hit Scarlett as soon as she stepped inside. She looked around in disgust, and tried to ignore the disdainful looks many of the males were giving her. The whores were heavily equipped with rouge and were, well, doing very unladylike things to the males…

Quietly, the figure led her upstairs to a private room. The stranger slipped of a hood to reveal Belle's tangle of fire-red curls.

"Now you's best stay here, Scarlett. This is Rhett's room, after all. Treat it well. If you don't, well, your husband'll be furious at the two of us."

She smiled and gave Scarlett a tiny golden key. Then, she turned on her heel and walked back to her position behind the wooden bar.

Trembling, Scarlett had used the key to open the polished cherry door. As it clicked, she began to feel her heart racing and her hands began to feel clammy. Wasn't it wrong to be entering his room? It was unladylike to invade one's privacy, wasn't it?

Oh fiddle-dee-dee, I'm not going to find anything bad. I'm turning into a ninny for no reason, she thought to herself. Besides, she wasn't ever a lady to begin with. She smiled slightly as she remembered the day she made her first encounter with Rhett in the Twelve Oaks library…

Sighing, she creaked the door open and gasped at the sight before her.

The room itself was as large as his room in their Atlanta mansion. Angry blotches of brown covered the powder-white walls. Lying on the floor were broken pieces of glass. An empty decanter stood on a tray that was left on the porcelain bedside table. Three crystal shot glasses were discarded on it.

A king size bed in the left hand corner looked to be in bad shape; the multiple layers of fabric seemed to be splayed everywhere on the mattress. The linen was filthy and grimy; they clearly had not been changed in some time.

But what sparked Scarlett's interest the most was the large, ovular desk placed in the back of the room near the massive window. Cautiously, she had picked her way through the mess—always avoiding the glaring shards of glass that littered the wood-paneled floor. Finally, she had reached the farthest right hand corner where the desk was located. As she neared it, she saw portraits and letters all stacked into piles. Tentatively, she lifted a frame no bigger than half a loaf of bread. She gasped as she saw the girl.

Her flowing chocolate hair was pulled back with a silk royal blue ribbon that matched her bright eyes. She was wearing a crisp, white ruffled dress. Her features were smooth and resembled the finest porcelain; she was merely a child, her baby fat puffing her tiny cheeks. Oh, her precious Bonnie! Tears began to well up in her eyes as she recalled how much Rhett loved their child. How very happy he was when she had given him a child! She must not think of those things. The thoughts would drive her mad. Quickly, she wiped the salty tears away and glanced at the other portraits.

There were many, but none seemed familiar to her. And then she stopped her rifling as her eyes landed on a portrait lying on the ground. She recognized the girl, for it was almost as if looking at a reflection. But she looked younger and more carefree…

A letter addressed to Belle lied on the desk. After contemplating her options for awhile, she snatched it and placed it inside her basque. Then, she fled the room and bolted home.

Something had overcome her that day. Belle had sent a telegram to Scarlett that very same day, stating that she was welcome to come through the back entrance to the sporting house at any time. That was when Scarlett had found herself at the most depressed state of mind. Without even fully thinking about it, she knew what she had to do.

After reading Rhett's letter to Belle, what other choice did she have? Oh yes, she would become even more despised in Atlanta than she already was, but what did it matter? There was nothing more she could do for herself. If Rhett didn't love her, then there was no point in picking her life away. She might as well waste the rest of her life doing unladylike actions instead of waiting for a hopeless miracle that Rhett would come back to her.

She had to become a prostitute.

Okay, so before you review, I just wanna clear up the fact that I do not believe Scarlett would ever really become a prostitute. She's not that desperate, but I just wanted to try this out. Also, I do not like cursing, so I will be copying and pasting any cuss words.

Feel free to review! Next chapter coming soon!