This is another long chapter. I'm 100 sure all the chapters except the first one will be this long. So if you're not a fan of long chapters, this is not the story for you. Thanks for the reviews! Cheers!

Rose sat in her room until she heard her father come in. Her first instinct was to hide from him and not let him know she was home. Usually at this time she would be out looking for work or in the middle of a "job." She was afraid of what his reaction would be when he saw her home so early. Gathering herself she walked towards the door which would lead her to either pain or praise. She clutched the money in her hand tightly and pushed the door open. Her fathers head snapped around. At first all Rose could make out was confusion but then it turned into unmistakable anger.

"What are you doing home so early?" he demanded coming towards her. She closed the door and pressed her back against it. She was in a defiant pose but felt weak through and through.

"A very special client requested to come back here," she quietly responded, "He paid very well." Seamus's eyes lowered to the money. He reached out and grabbed it from her, his movements hurried. His eyes were full of suspicion causing Rose to lower her head. She did not want to watch him count the money.

"There is nearly Five Hundred francs here!" her father exclaimed. Rose lifted her head. Seamus looked at her with quiet awe.

"He was very generous," she said. Rose thought she was off the hook that nothing bad would happen between them. She reached for the handle of her door but was stopped by her father's hand slamming against it.

"Who did you rob?" he whispered menacingly. His other hand was raised in a fashion that would suggest he was about to hit her. She cowered.

"I did not rob anyone!" she cried, "It was a very generous man!" His hand lowered. Seamus scoffed and came closer to Rose. She grimaced as the smell of alcohol and smoke enveloped her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

"And did he ask anything else of you?" Rose bit her tongue and thought about what the man had said earlier.

"Yes," she replied, "He wants me to meet him again…exclusively." Her father smirked and lowered himself down to her level, his cheek brushing against hers.

"And did he discuss payment?" Rose nodded and gulped. She hated when Seamus did this.

"He said he would pay well." She heard a low chuckle and then felt lips press against her cheek. Never in her life had she wanted to run more.

"I think I may allow this," he said directly into her ear. His hot breath on her face sent shudders of disgust down her spine. The shoulder of her dress had fallen revealing her bare skin. She knew her father could never resist the temptations of the flesh. She felt his lips press against her neck first and then followed their movement all the way to her shoulder. She had learned in the past to just close her eyes and take what was coming. Usually, after a long night of drinking, his foreplay wouldn't last too long and he'd either get to the point or fall asleep from the effort. Rose hoped tonight was the latter. She longed to be anywhere else. The feeling of her father's hands working her dress up past her waist was unsettling but familiar. His hands found the inside of her thigh and moved up towards her midsection. As he skimmed over her private area she felt a small hint of desire which disgusted her. Even if it was her father, he still treated her better then most when it came to sex. The night she had come to realize this she had vomited continuously trying to purge the horrible feeling from her body. Seamus's hands on her breast caused her to finally give into.

"Do you want to move this into the bedroom?" she queried. At this suggestion her father's hands stopper their groping and he backed away.

"No. I need to sleep." With these words he walked away and entered his own small room and shut the door. Rose's chest heaved up and down. She was surprised at her sudden bought of luck. She quietly entered her room and sat upon her bed. With her head in her hands she reminisced about the stranger who had just stood in her room a little while ago. He'd paid her and he had not even had his way with her sexually. This was an odd occurrence for Rose. He had, however, left his mark on either of her wrists. Thinking of this she examined them closely. He must have had sharp nails to do such damage to her tender skin. They had clotted up and stopped bleeding awhile about but they still throbbed painfully. She did not feel so bad about these marks; the scars on his face had been much worse then what he had done to her wrists.

"Why would he scar himself so?" Rose asked herself, "And why does he wear a mask?" All of these questions turned in her head. She could not seem to rid herself of her own infernal curiosity.

"Well you will just have to go to him," Rose told herself, 'That's the only way you will ever know." She smiled. How she was going to get to the church was still a mystery but at least she had made up her mind. With at least one reassuring thought in her head she fell asleep.


When the night finally arrived she was ready. Her father had left early to drink which gave her time to pace about their home mumbling incoherently. The tiny village which he had spoken of was not close at all. The day before she'd located Sophie and asked her about the area outside the one she normally occupied. Sophie had reluctantly told her all about it. It was not a village at all, just an extension of where they lived now. It was more run down and filled with crime. The church the man had spoken of was on the very edge of this hell hole. Lately there had been rumors of a ghost inhabiting the ruins.

"You are really going there?" Sophie had asked. Rose remembered nodding and leaving Sophie. She had nothing more to say at that moment. Now she paced the room regretting not asking anyone for a lift to that area. She could not walk the whole length and be there by nightfall. She did not want to incur any wrath this man might posses. She at least knew he was more powerful then her.

"What am I to do?" she cried. At that exact moment she heard a sharp knock at the door. She gave it an odd look and then went to open it. Outside the door was a man shrouded in darkness.

"Who is it?" she asked. There was a pause and then she heard a man speak,

"I come for you. My friend thought it best if you arrive on time." She bit her bottom lip and motioned for the man to come in. He did so and Rose studied him. He was emaciated looking for his height, his skin pale. He wore all black as the man the previous night had. He wore an astrakhan cap atop his head. Rose thought him rather out of place. He seemed to be uncomfortable in the small home. His Jade eyes scanned Rose and he smiled.

"And who might you be?" Rose asked. She didn't mean to seem so forward but she feared it came across that way.

"My name is not important. You may call me the Persian." Rose nodded and excused herself. She rushed into her room and picked up a shawl she had carelessly thrown into the corner earlier that week. She wrapped it around herself, a good protection from the bitter nip of early fall. She came back to the Persian.

"I am ready," she announced. The Persian nodded and moved outside. Rose followed behind. She shielded her eyes from the harsh light of the sun; the day's last dying breath. The man opened the door to the carriage and helped her inside. He seemed to have more manners then his friend did. He closed the door and walked around to the front. Rose felt the movement of the carriage. She attempted to relax, moving about the seat like a mad woman. She wanted to enjoy the time before she was to once again be near the scarred and dangerous man, but she found she could not. She feared this visit but she also wanted it. Rose watched as the sun slowly fell behind the buildings and the streets began to darken. This is when the carriage began to slow. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew it was time. The door opened and the Persian helped her out. She stood in a run down area, the streets full of filth. She turned her attention away from this and directed it at the church. It was a large and crumbling structure. Vines crawled up every side. A crucifix was broken in two and had rather un-thoughtfully been thrown to the ground in front of the church.

"He waits," the man instructed and he returned to the coach. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat as she began to ascend the stairs. As she neared the worn doors she could make out the soft glow of a light coming from underneath. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Inside was a mess. Pews were vandalized and broken. The altar was turned over and had rather vulgar words written on its surface. Rose shifted her weight and looked about for the man. She did not see him so she ventured further in. Stain glass windows, which once had been immaculate and pure, were now broken. She frowned at the sight. This part of the city was a mess. She searched deeper in the ruins until she came to another door behind the broken altar. It was marked with a giant 'X' and looked more clean and well kept then the doors at the entrance. She turned the knob and entered. The first thing she saw was a fire burning brightly in a fireplace. A chair was positioned in front of it, from her angle she could see no one sat in it. The room was almost bare except multitudes of paper that littered the floor. That was when she was seized from behind and a mans voice, full of venom, said,

"It is customary to knock first."