It was funny how much a person could change if they'd lost the one they loved. Christian knew the saying well, that is was "better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." But agreeing with it was another thing. Christian was only 24, but the past year had proved to mentally make him age faster. In other words, he had stopped believing in the foolish ideals of truth, beauty, freedom, and yes, even love altogether. What had replaced the man that had once been so pure and full of life was now a man of hardly any emotion at all. He passed the same faces on the streets, those of local businessmen, hobos, and has-been hookers. All empty, all lifeless to him. It was about mid-afternoon now, with a set of low dark autumn clouds coming in from the west.

Christian passed by the liquor store and saw that they had restocked the Absinthe. "Perfect." he thought. He was beginning to run low on the money his father had sent him to return home, but the truth was, Christian didn't plan on coming home. He knew that in doing so, it wouldn't give his father the chance to prove that coming to Paris in the first place had always been a bad idea. "To hell with it." he said under his breath and bought four bottles of the potent beverage. He returned to his room 15 minutes later carrying his prized possesions. Setting aside the other three bottles, Christian uncorked the fourth and proceeded to guzzle its contentsdown as rapidly as he could. It seemed he couldn't get it in fast enough to soothe his thirst.

While feeling the slightly chilled Absinthe flow down his throat, Christian almost choked when he heard a knock at his door. Setting down the bottle, he rose and walked cautiously to it. Pausing, he waited, and then, hearing another faint knock muttered, "Who is it?" No reply. Again he repeated, "Who is it?" Still no reply. A third time, "WHO IS IT?" he yelled, and flew open the door. He was rather surprised to see that it was the girl from yesterday standing ever so still at his doorstep.

"Wha? I thought I told you,...," he began, but stopped and sighed, "just leave."

Christian expected the girl to go running off again, but instead she stayed.

"I'm sorry. I… I wanted to apologize for impeeding yesterday. I…er.. .you see, I found you in the street a few nights ago.. and you looked like you needed some help and.." the girl tried to explain but was cut off.

"You what?... You found me?" Christian asked.

"Why yes. I brought you back up here…You were passed out in the street!" she exclaimed. "Don't you remember?" she added. Christian continued to stand in thought.

"Alright. I get that. But,... how'd you know to bring me here eh?" he questioned in a rather critical tone.

"Well, you see, there was an address of sorts labeled on your apartment key. I had to get it from your pocket…"

Something about the girl had infuriated Christian and he blew up.

"WHAT?...What the HELL were you doing in my pockets?" he yelled.

"I've told you before. I was on my way home and I…I saw you there and I… couldn't just leave you there! You were passed out in the street and it was cold! So,... I brought you back here. I didn't know where you lived, so I thought if I tried to look for some identification or something of yours in your pockets I could get you back home..." The girl was starting to cry and get antsy.

"I DON'T FUCKIN CARE!" he screamed. "GET OUT!" and turned away coughing. The girl's face was red hot with furry as she started to leave, but before doing so stopped to scream back, "FINE! BUT I JUST WANTED TO HELP! I HOPE YOU DIE IN THE STREETS THE NEXT TIME YOU GET SMASHED! I HOPE YOUR BODY LIES THERE FOR WEEKS AND ROTS YOU UNGRATEFUL AND MISERABLE DRUNK!" Hot tears flowed from her dark eyes. "NO WONDER YOUR WHORE DIED! IT WAS PROBABLY THE ONLY THING SHE COULD DO TO GET AWAY FROM AN INCONSIDERATE BASTARD LIKE YOU! and then she ran.

Christian was left speechless. She had taken this too far. To him, it literally felt like a million knives had been stabbed into his heart and he ached all over. She knew about Satine, which meant she had read the story.

A sick feeling came over Christian and he had to catch his breath. Was this pain he felt due to this girl intruding into his life? Or was it because of his behavior?

"DAMNIT!" Christian cursed. He had done it again. In a tantrum of anger he smashed the half drunken bottle of Absinthe to the wall and ran out the door. He could still hear her footsteps racing away from him, as if she were running from a monster. What was he thinking? He was the monster. A drunken, stubborn, and repulsing monster. The girl had been anything but wrong, he didn't deserve to live.

Rain started to fall as Christian tried to keep up with her. She couldn't of been more than 8 or 9 yards from him but he was loosing her fast.

"PLEASE! WAIT!" he pleaded. "I'M SORRY!"

The girl turned around for a brief moment, but continued running with all her might. He wasn't going to let her go, he thought. Not until he made this right.

The chase seemed to last for hours, but only a few short minutes. The girl had succesfully seeked a safe haven away from her chaser to which Christian would have had no problem following her into. Except however, for one conflict. The girl had ran into the abandoned Moulin Rouge.