"Fallen angels at my feet
Whispered voices at my ear
Death before my eyes
Lying next to me I fear
She beckons me; shall I give in
Upon my end shall I begin
Forsaking all I've fallen for
I rise to meet my end"
-Evanescence, "Whisper"
Christine awoke with a start. Bright rays of sunlight entered the room from a small, lone window on the wall. She tried to contemplate where she was but was interrupted by a sudden searing headache along with a wave of nauseousness. She knew she was going to lose the contents of her stomach very soon.
She sat up in the bed she found herself in, and started frantically searching for a place to throw up. The small hotel room didn't offer many pleasing options.
She doubled over as another episode of intense pain racked her small frame. As she was leaned over, she happened to glance to the floor beside the bed, where she was relieved to find a small wastebasket. That will do, she thought.
She got down on the floor on her hands and knees and emptied the contents of her stomach into the small basket. Throwing up made her feel a little better, but not much. She still felt like hell. I bet I don't look any better than I feel, she thought. It was true. Her face was lacking color and her eyes were red and swollen with dark circles underneath. Her lips were dry and cracked, too, but she didn't notice. She was in too much pain to notice much of anything. She leaned her head back against the grimy wall of the cheap hotel room. She had never felt pain like this before.
In her agony, she tried to think of the last thing that happened to her before she passed out. Slowly, her memories came back to her. She was in a bar. But why, she wondered. Remembering the newspaper, she let out a cry of grief. "Oh, Angel," she breathed. "Why?"
Then suddenly she remembered the bartender and the disgusting proposition that he had made. I ran, Christine thought, didn't I? No, I must have passed out before I could. "Oh, no," she cried, hoping he hadn't brought her here and taken advantage of her. She was afraid to even think of some of the things that he could have done to her.
The door to the room opened suddenly, bringing Christine out of her sickening thoughts. To her surprise, the mysterious woman from the bar walked in, frown on her face.
"What happened?" Christine demanded. "Where am I?"
"Calm down," the woman replied. "I brought you to my hotel room. You passed out in a bar and the bartender tried to take advantage of you."
"But he didn't, did he?" Christine questioned, frantically.
"Lucky for you, no," the woman said. "I stopped him, then brought you here." She walked over to Christine, who was still leaning against the wall, and pulled out a small vial of liquid. "Here," she said, handing it to Christine. "Drink this tonic. It will make you feel better."
"What's in it?" Christine asked suspiciously. She sniffed the liquid, not finding the odor pleasing at all.
"An infusion of willow bark and henbane," the woman replied, "to relieve the pain and chamomile to soothe your stomach."
"Are you a nurse?" Christine asked.
The woman let out a small breath of air, a little annoyed by all of the questions this girl asked. "No, but I assisted with the medical aid on my father's ship."
"Ooo," Christine responded. "He was an explorer?" Christine's own dear father had told her many elegant stories of explorers before he had died.
"Something like that," the woman said. It wasn't entirely the truth. Hardly even close, in some people's standards. In truth, her father had been a pirate. As she saw it, pirates did explore the oceans just as explorers did, but they certainly weren't looking for the same things. Explorers searched for land to claim for their countries while pirates hunted for treasure. So, she wasn't exactly lying; just bending the truth a little.
The woman motioned towards the vial. "Drink it. It will help."
Christine reluctantly drank the foul-tasting liquid. Just as the woman promised, the tonic did make her feel better almost instantly. "So," Christine said, breaking the silence. "What's your name?"
"Julianna," the woman stated.
"That's a pretty name," Christine inquired. "I'm Christine. Nice to meet you."
She got no reply.
Christine started to wonder about the things the bartender told her about this woman. Could she really have killed a man? Christine couldn't even imagine what killing a man would be like. It just wasn't in her nature to be violent. "Is it true?" Christine let slip.
Before Christine could cover her slip, Julianna replied, "Is what true?"
Christine thought for a moment. She couldn't just ask this woman if she murdered a man. That wouldn't be right. Plus she might just get herself killed for asking. "Is it true what the bartender told me about you?"
"What did he tell you?" Julianna replied, in a dangerous voice, frowning once again.
"He told me… that…you…were foreign…and you murdered a man," Christine squeaked, quite afraid of what this woman might do to her.
"Well, I'm not foreign. I was born right here in Paris. It's just I've been gone a long time. People around here don't know me anymore," she replied. "And as for the second part, my answer is I might have but that's really none of your business." At the look of pure horror on Christine's face, she added, "Don't worry, though. I'm not going to hurt you."
Christine forced a smile. What had she gotten herself into this time?
Well, there's Chapter 4. Tell me what you think. Please review. :)