Chapter 14
Sasha and Kat made their way back to the main stage, where Sorelli and the little ballet girls were. They were just behind the the curtain, when Sasha stopped Kat, and turned her attention to herself.
"Stay back here, you can't let Sorelli know what happened, your cheeks are puffed up and red from the tears, and a bruise is forming on your neck."
"What do you mean by that, you want to keep this to yourself? He almost killed me!" She protested
"Your not thinking logically. If Sorelli knows something happened, she will tell mother, and father." Kat's face lost it's returning colour.
"Father?" Kat whimpered with fright. "He would be furious at me, if he knew, me might no let me keep the new fowl if he thinks I did something like this."
"Exactly." Sasha commented, then approached the group on the stage.
"My dear!" Sorelli called as she left the group to practice.
"Madame-"
"Oh please call me Sorelli, Madame Makes me sound old." She requested cheerfully, Sasha nodded then continued.
"Um... Sorelli, would it be alright if Kat and I just went home, Kat is exhausted from our tour."
"Oh, of course Dears. I'll send for a carriage."
"I think we can walk. I was hoping to stop at that little market we passed on the way here. I saw a cart that particularly sparked my interest."
"If you wish." She smiled, then directed her attention back to the dancing girls.
Sasha returned to Kat, and they made their way out of the Opera House, and through the streets of Paris, to the Market. When they walked down the main section, they came to a small colourful stand that had many beautiful silk scarfs spread out for sale.
"Kat!" Sasha called, as her sister started to wander off. "Which one do you want?"
"What?" She gave Sasha a confused look, obviously caught off guard by the question.
"For your neck. If your going to hide the bruise from mother and father, your going to need a scarf. For some reason, you don't seem to have any. You should always have one, in case you need to Hide something."
"What, Speaking from experience, Little Sister?" She joked "When was the last time you were strangled?"
"Not strangled, but I sometimes have need for one, with James and all." Sasha blushed.
"James, the stable boy?" Kat questioned.
"Yes, why else would I spend so much time in the stables, not that I don't love my mare, but would I honestly spend all day with her?"
"I thought you went there to read, and get away from father, not commit scandalous acts, oh what would people say if they found out? It would disgrace the family!"
"Spending time out there to read is how I got to know him. What scandalous acts are you thinking? I have only simply kissed the boy, I am after all only thirteen!"
"Then what exactly do you need the scarf for? If your just kissing the boy?" Kat questioned, trying to catch her sister in a lie.
"His hands. He get grease on them some times with the oil from the hinges of the stalls, it rubes off on while he touches my neck! Do you really think I would do something else with him? Why, you should know me better than that! I am no low class ballet rat! I do have standards!" She placed her hand on her hips, and scowled at Kat, who's face was turning red from embarrassment.
"Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." She apologized.
"It's actually kinda funny, in a twisted humour kind of way, but enough about what hasn't happened, which one do you want?"
"The Pink one!" She said cheerfully. Sasha gave the money to the owner, then wrapped it around her sister's neck and positioned it so that no part of the bruise was showing. They wondered away from each other, heading to stands that interested them. Kat walked over to one that was selling perfumes, oils, rouge, and other beauty products, while Sasha went to one that was selling books. She browsed threw them, looking for something she could easily tuck in her cloak, and hide from Raoul. He had always hated when he saw her reading, or writing. His philosophy was men wanted a dumb, beautiful women, who has no opinion and just sits around batting her eyes and fawning over her man. Sasha believe that a women should be smart, and enjoy the simple pleasures of reading an enchanting book, or writing down precious thoughts. Raoul knew she would never fit into his standards for a women, but tried his hardest to change her, but Sasha was stubborn, she wouldn't let him.
Her mind wondered over her life, under Raoul's control. Certain memories stuck in her mind. She recalled a time when she was only ten, and arguing with some of Raoul's tipsy friends over useless politics. They were astounded by her grasp on the subject, and radical views. Raoul however, wasn't impressed. In fact, he was sickened by it. After his friends left he yelled at her slapped her a crossed the face multiple times, trying to put her back into her oppressed place in society.
Another memorize took that one's place, this one when she was younger, around seven years old, when she was caught reading in the study, in the middle of the night. Raoul tossed the book into the dancing red hot flames of the fireplace, and locked her in her room. That was the when she started to hide her books, and only took them out to read when she could safely hide in one of the horse stalls.
Her mind changed it's images again, this time was just recently, only a few months ago, when James had first kissed her. They had been sitting in her mare's stall. He had finished working, and she was teaching him to write. It was raining outside, and the stalls smelled sweet, the hay, rain, horses, and James all seemed to work together to intoxicated the nose, and clouded the mind. Neither one could pay attention to the lesson, only each other.
She was snapped back to reality when her eye fell upon a single book. It was smaller than the ones around it, but looked far more elegant, despite it's simple cover. The book was bound with red leather, it's spine covered with black. The tips of the pages were painted gold, to match the text in the center of the cover. The word Faust was written in an old English style, with the author's name followed right below. Something about this book called to her. She needed to buy it. After safely tucking it away in her cloak, she continued to shop around for simple things like chocolates, black ribbon, a hair pin in the shape of a rose, a set of stationary, and bottles of red and black ink. She met back up with her sister, then the two girls returned to Sorelli's home, neither one spoke of the what had happened at the Opera House, but each could tell the other was thinking about it.
