(SQUEE!) it makes me sooo happy to have new reviews after a successful chappy! thank yous all sooo much!!!!
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Part Eighteen:
Lark could only stare horrified at the ceiling at her discovery of where Mama was. "Oh no," she whispered helplessly, she had to get Mama, but, but didn't Erik say he didn't want her down there? She clutched her fists tight against her head, what could she do? She knew that Erik meant what he had said about her coming back down, but what about Mama? "What can I do? What can I do??" Lark demanded of her pillow, turning to it. Of course her pillow didn't answer, and she still didn't know what to do.
Lark threw the pillow across the room, the pillow making a soft 'wump' sound as it hit the floor. She sat up and drearily started to clean up the large overwhelming mess she had made while frantically searching for Mama. She bit her lip as she shoved most of clothes into the wardrobe, should she go down and get Mama? Yes, Lark decided, she needed her; she was depending on Lark to take care of things. Looking around the girl decided that the room as at least acceptable in a scattered sort of way.
It will only be a short trip; Lark told herself, trying to convince her of the safety…and was failing miserably to do so. Straightening her shoulders, the girl begun to walk out of her room determinedly but as she creaked open the door, she found herself face to face with an inky darkness. "Oh..." she said blearily, it was late, too late fore anyone to come out wandering around a closed Opera house. Lark glanced at a clock in the corner of the hall, past midnight. There was no going for Mama right now, she sighed, and Lark would have to wait until tomorrow.
I'm sorry, Mama.
"Hey..! You're missing that spot, boy!" a creaky voice cut through the air, Lark jumped and looked down, surprised. She was washing the same piece of ground over and over all the while missing a particularly dirty spot. Lark looked up at the crabby old woman who was in charge of the Opera's cleaning. Lark nodded wearily, she had tossed and turned all night, thinking about Mama, and how she was going to get her back. Wringing out the mop, the young girl rubbed the floor harder to remove the spot. Scrubbing hard, Lark didn't notice one of the stage hand's assistant boys was watching her closely with a dark sneer crossed on his pointed face.
Lark wiped her face as she put away her cleaning equipment, there had been a lot to do that day, and she didn't even have time to have lunch let alone go after Mama. Her stomach rumbled hungrily as she walked down the hallways. Suddenly, a rope swung down and a figure landed in front of her with a heavy thud. "Hey, aren't you the boy who works for the cleaning group?" a young man loomed over her with a smirk plastered on his pointed face. She recognized him as one of the assistants of the stage hand, was he Robert…? Yes, that was him, Robert Louise, a nasty person with a sharp tongue and a strong like for spirits.
Lark didn't like the way he improvised 'boy', or the way she could smell spirits on his breath; she must be cautious around this person. "Yes," she answered, making sure her voice was lowered, "you need help with anything…?" He leered at her, his eyes blazing in a fire she didn't like. "Sure," his voice was slurred, Lark became edgy, "so tell me, what are you? Boy? I don't think so. You must be a pretty lady friend." He made a snatch at her but she danced away from him. "You're not well, Mousier Louise," she said slowly backing away from him. He grinned and grabbed at her but she jumped out of his reach.
"Come on, love," he coaxed coming towards the frightened girl, "I knew you were a girl, you're too pretty to hide it." He lunged suddenly; Lark gave out a cry as he nearly grabbed her and took off in the other direction. He was drunk! She could hear him coming after her, panting like a wolf in a hunt. Lark couldn't find anyone, glancing behind her she could see that he was catching up. "Oh, someone, help…" she whispered under her breath. They continued to run down the halls, the man's hot breath nearly breathing down her neck as he started to get closer. As he got up closer, he nearly caught her collar before she did a sharp turn up the stairs leading to the rafters over the stage.
"Come here, my love!" he called after her, causing the hairs on the nape of Lark's neck to stand up. She gasped out loud as a hand encircled her wrist; she was roughly spun around to face Mousier Louise's ruddy face. "There you are, my pet," He cooed. Lark gave out a cry and pushed him away with all her strength, catching him off guard. She fell to her knees as he released her. He gave out a yell as he tumbled back, hitting the edge of the rope that was the hand rail of the boards held above the stage far below. He tethered back a bit, and then fell giving a bloodcurdling scream as he tumbled through the air and hitting the stage, with a sickening thud.
Lark wept with a mixture of fright and relief, and, peering over the side, she could only stare with horror at his unmoving body below. He hand clamped to her mouth, she felt sick as she watched his blood gathering around him in a small pool of red. "What have I done?" she whispered, putting her head in her hands.
Don't worry, i wasn't going to let anything happen to Lark, stupid guy. i was glad he died! DIE! oh wait, duh, im the authoress.