A/N: This story, even though it can be read as a stand alone story is interconnected with another story I am writing at the moment. Neither story is set before the other, but rather at the same time, in the same fey world, just in different places with different people. However they do connect and each character meets the other, so reading it together gives more of an insight into each of the main characters individual stories, but is in no way a requirement.

Should you wish to read both, just go to my profile and find the story The Girl Behind the Glamour. It's a Cinderella re-tell.

Thanks, Jess.

10. Melody

I was scared of Johnny's. I wanted it, but that didn't change the fear factor. Fear of Johnny. Of the drugs. Of River's wrath. Sometimes I wondered why I did it. But I knew. The high. That was why I did it.

River yelled, but I could block that out. He got frustrated and threatened me, but the threats became empty. I think somewhere he became guilty and felt he couldn't hurt me over something he drove me to do in the first place.

Johnny moved towards me with the vile.

"This, can give you everything, Belle. Diamonds. Pearls. Pretty dresses." Johnny brought a hand to my face, and ran it downing my cheek, as he whispered, "A single, red, rose."

This is what he had offered me last time. A few months ago. I'd been disgusted. Now, it was just a way of life.

"A rose?"

"What do you want?"

"To see my brother. My parents."

"Then take this," Johnny said passing me the mirror. "You'll see them in there."

The mirror wasn't magic, but it may as well have been. The white powder made it magic.

The images changed. Sharpened. Blurred.

The mirror wasn't magic, but it showed me what I needed to see. I saw my family. My brother. The life I lost. And the life I'd gained. But gained was hardly a word that sounded fit for my misery.

Sometimes I wondered what happened. How this had happened. The drugs. The haze. The lies. The pain.

Mostly, usually, the pain.

I blamed River. But there was only so much blame one person could be held to. So much of it was my fault. So much.

And I hated myself for it. I really hated myself.

I absent-mindedly hummed my prince's melody as I prepared dinner one night. The song had become so ingrained in my head I didn't even need to think about it. I didn't hear River approach until he spoke.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked. I turned in fright, accidentally flicking a piece of chicken across the room with my knife as I whirled around. River smiled at me and took the knife from my hand, placing it on the bench. As he did our hands brushed. River jolted away, as if he'd been burnt. He noticed that I'd noticed and took a step back.

"Hear what?" I asked.

"What you were humming. That melody."

"Oh… umm… not sure. Just around," I shrugged casually, feeling all but casual. I didn't want to tell River about my dreams. They were my secret temptation.

"Around?" River questioned. I turned back to my chicken, picking up the knife and beginning to cut again.

"Why do you ask?"

"I know that melody."

"You do? From where?" I asked, not wanting to reveal my dreams.

"I composed it," River said. I froze and turned slowly.

"You composed it?"

"Yes. But I know I have never played that for you on the piano. The one you heard the night after your nightmare was different. That is why I was wondering where you have heard the melody." River eyed me. Something must have given me away because River asked, "Would you like to try again? Where have you heard that song?"

"I'm embarrassed," I said.

"I do not mind," River said as if he were doing me a favour.

I sighed. "Fine. I dreamt it."

"Dreamt it?" River frowned. I only nodded. "When?"

"A little while ago," I shrugged.

"What was the dream?" he asked. I grimaced. I didn't want to tell the real River about my prince River. "Giselle?"

"It was in the ballroom," I said with a sigh. "There was a prince. We danced to that melody." I was careful not to say who that prince was.

"A prince?" River said, looking thoughtful. "I have to say that I have never entertained any princes in my ballroom."

"No," I said softly. "You haven't."

"Hmm," River said, watching my face carefully. I thought I had given myself away before River turned and said, "Magic is a strange thing."

"You are upset?" River asked – stated – at dinner that night. I wasn't sure how he knew, and often I didn't even want to know. "May I ask what it wrong?"

"I haven't seen Mix in a long time. I'm worried, that's all."

"I put a charm on her."

"You did what?" I all but shouted.

"I put a charm on her. So the drugs wouldn't capture her anymore. I reminded her of how terrible it all is. Of why she didn't need that. I've kept her away from there. It's what you wanted, didn't you?"

I was silent. Then, "Yes. Yes, it was."

River nodded.

"Thank you," I told him.

"Now, will you stay away from him too? He, and his magic – drugs – are dangerous. Please, stay away."

"Okay. I will. Thank you."

River nodded. He stood, leaving his dishes for me to collect, and began to walk away, but I heard him say, "I only did it for you."

It was a couple of days later that I was walking slowly away from the supermarket, groceries tucked under my arms. As I said before, my neighbourhood wasn't one of the best. You know how you always seem to have that sixth sense when someone is following you. Maybe it was just paranoia. Anyway, I had that paranoia that day. Not sure why, but I did. It turned out I was correct. I looked in one of the abandoned shop windows to see the reflection of a man across the street, watching my movements carefully. I sped up a little. So did he. Brilliant. Just what I needed. I took a few turns that were out of the way. He followed each one. Just as I was about to turn up another street I realised the man was gone. I spun, looking for him. He had disappeared. Well, that was good. I guess my brain didn't register that that might be strange. I turned again to begin home and ran into the man. I froze on the spot. Great. Just great. He was tall – taller than me anyway – with a long black coat. He had dark greasy hair and a lopsided smile. I should say grimace. He looked at me and asked,

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes, home," I informed him, trying to push past him. He grabbed my forearm and hauled me back, making me drop my groceries. He whipped out a knife faster than I thought was possible and held it to my throat. As usual, no panic set in, only anger that this guy was not only delaying me, but had also made me drop all my things.

"I don't think so, honey," he said in a rusty voice. "Got any cash on you?"

"Yes," I said calmly. "I just don't particularly want to give it to you."

"Yeah, well–" His voice was cut off as my free arm swung out and smashed into the side of his head. The man recoiled quickly, dropping the knife and clutching his temple. "You bitch!" he said, bearing his teeth. I was prepared to run. But he got me first, grabbing the back of my jumper and smashing a fist into my face. I fell, stumbling. But apparently the guy wasn't finished with me yet. He pulled back his hand again and slapped me across the cheek. The pain bit at me as I clasped a hand to my face. I staggered back, hitting a wall of an abandoned street shop. The man advanced slowly, watching me carefully. I wasn't scared or panicking as, I'm sure, this guy would be expecting. I was angry, hurt and somewhat defeated. "Give me your cash," the man repeated.

"No," I said defiantly. The man growled and lunged at me. I was too slow to get out of the way as he grabbed my face with two hands and rammed it against the bricks behind me. The world tipped for a moment before black spots appeared in my eyes. Then the world began to spin as I realised I was falling. I hit the ground so slowly I felt every contact my body had with the stones beneath me. Then, everything went black.

When I woke I was cold, stiff and sore. It was dark and wet. How long I'd been lying on the sidewalk for, I didn't know. My head was throbbing and my bones ached. Of course no one had helped me. Gee, don't you love the community spirit. I sat up slowly, waited for everything to stop spinning, and then stood, clutching at the wall beside me. I felt the desire for drugs. To feel the high. To forget. Instantly I turned, ready to walk to Johnny's. My groceries were scattered all over the road, and I left them. There wasn't anything worth salvaging. My throat hurt, and I put my hand to my neck. As I did, I felt the golden chain. And the pendant. I stopped, looking at my reflection in the window of a glass door of a shoe store. I was so pathetic. Running for drugs as soon as anything began to get a little worse than they already were. I closed my eyes, turned around and began to walk home slowly, wrapping my arms around my aching body, head throbbing, wishing I were dead.

As soon as I got in the door, hood flicked over my head to cover my face, River pounced.

"Where were you? You missed dinner. It is almost ten o'clock." He said it in an annoyed tone, standing by the far door in the foyer.

"I got distracted," I muttered, eager to get upstairs and see what damage that idiot had inflicted.

"For seven hours?" River questioned.

"I guess," I shrugged.

"Let me see your face," River demanded. I sighed and pulled back my hood. River's face changed from anger to annoyance.

"What happened?"

"I fell."

"You are a bad liar, Giselle."

"Someone tried to rob me," I told him with a deflated sigh. "It's no big deal. Just a few bruises." River moved closer to me and put a hand to my face. I sucked in a breath. The other hand rested on my shoulder to stop me from moving away. He probed my face with his scratchy fingertips, pressing to see when I grimaced.

"You are lucky. Nothing is broken," River informed me, now feeling for the cuts at the side and back of my head. "But you have a large cut on your scalp. You will need stiches." Unconsciously I put my hand to the back of my head. My hair was sticky from the blood and I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt the broken skin.

"The doctor will be closed by now," I told River. "And the wait at the hospital will be hours."

"I will do it," he said breezily, taking my forearm and dragging me towards the left wing of the mansion. He led me through a few corridors and into a small room. It took me a while to realise what it was until I saw the basin, bed and few cabinets. It was an infirmary.

"Why do you have an infirmary here?" I asked.

"When the house was full of servants an infirmary was needed," River said setting me on the bed and looking through some of the cabinets. He returned to me with a cloth, basin of water and a towel.

"Can I do it?" I asked. "Just the cleaning part?"

"No," River said, dipping the cloth in the basin of steaming water. "Look at your hands." I tilted my head down, staring at my hands. They were shaking. I tried to clench my muscles, but I only shook even more. It was uncontrollable and terrifying.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Withdrawal. You will start to become jittery and violent soon. Then you will be sick, with fever-like symptoms. It will last a day or so." As River brought the cloth close to my cheek I could smell a slightly antiseptic scent. I scrunched up my nose as River ran the cloth slowly over my cheek, just under my eye. It didn't sting as I had expected it to. In fact, it almost numbed my skin.

"What's in that water?" I asked.

"Just a herbal remedy," River answered, eyes not leaving my chin where he was now wiping dried blood away. He continued to go over my whole face, cleaning it gently and putting some sort of cream on the cuts. He was so gentle and calm. It didn't fit the nature of a monster. It didn't fit in with all the stories.

For the large cut on the side of my head River put, what looked a lot like a petal on the graze and covered it in gauze. As he finished placing the gauze on the side of my face, he slowly, absently, ran his fingers along the line of my cheek. I caught his hand before he could pull it away. River froze, realising what he'd just done. He looked carefully into my eyes and said, "I am terribly sorry, Giselle."

"What for?" I challenged.

River's lips thinned as he said, "I need to dress the wound on your scalp." I let go of his hand, but only enough so he had to slide it through my fingers to get it out. River looked disapproving before he turned quickly, rinsing out the ceramic bowls as he gathered more things. The cut on the back of my head he washed softly, a numbing sensation spreading over my scalp, then put a few stiches in, before putting the same petal on and covering it in gauze. It felt very strange in between my hair.

"Are you feeling any other pain?" River asked as he was washing up.

"I have a killer headache," I told him, getting off the bed slowly. River rustled around in some more cabinets and produced something that looked like a purple cashew.

"Take this. You will need to chew it," he told me, putting it carefully in my open palm, cautious not to touch my skin. I was tempted to grab his hand, just to tease him, but refrained. "You fell, didn't you? You should check for bruises tonight. If they are hurting a lot, put this over them." River then handed me a tube of white cream that smelt awful. "And you will need to take something for the withdrawal."

"I'm not sure if more drugs are the answer to a drug problem."

"Not drugs. Magic." River handed me a leaf. "Eat this. It should dim the symptoms. Sleep tonight. Tomorrow I will teach you how to defend yourself."

"Defend myself?" I asked. But River wouldn't tell me anything except to go to bed.

That night, apart from the dream of my prince (which had become the norm), I had another dream. Something out of the ordinary. I attributed it to my withdrawal, and the magic River had told me to eat.

I am standing at the edge of the world. My toes dangle over the ledge. In front of me, it's dark. Behind me, I feel light touching the back of my legs. The wind takes me in its arms and plays with me. It likes me. It fights over me. I can hear cars, and feel the brush of leaves over my bare back. I'm not wearing clothes, I realise.

Then, I hear hounds. Dogs barking and snarling. Hundreds of them. thousands of them. They are coming from the darkness in front of me. I know the only way to escape is to fall. To fall over the edge and into the depths. I know, but I'm scared.

I hold my arms out, rising on my toes, tilting my head back. I will not fall. The wind will push me. I wait, breathing softly. The hounds are closer. But I know the wind will push me. Still, I wait.

Then, I feel a tug on my chest. And push in my back. My toes lose balance and I'm falling gracefully into the dark. The dog's barks become quieter till there is little left. They are looking for me, but they won't find me.

I'm still falling. I wonder what will happen at the end. I'm not scared or panicked. Then, arms curl around me and I collapse into someone. It's dark, but I realise that's only because my eyes are closed. I open my eyes to see light all around. The light frames the pale white skin that saved me.

Then River says, "You must be careful, Giselle. You seem a magnet for trouble." He looks into my eyes. "And I can not lose you." He leans over me, his lips almost brushing mine before–

I woke quickly, not scared, just feeling strange. Like something was wrong. He wasn't supposed to catch me. Falling was what was saving me. I didn't understand. Most of all, because it was wrong.

And it was wrong because the River that had caught me hadn't been a prince. He'd been a monster. And it didn't seem so strange.

I'd gone to have a shower that morning, and found a note taped to the mirror. I frowned, not sure if I should be annoyed that River could get into my room without me noticing, or that he knew me too well.

It read:

Meet me at the garden entrance – the far sidewall of the ballroom.

Dress warm.

10:30

I was tired and annoyed, I didn't like secrets or surprises, and I wasn't in the mood. I'd been drenched in sweat when I'd woken, still shaking slightly, my head throbbing, like I had a hangover. I guessed it was because of the withdrawal. I checked out the damage to my face, and a few other bruises on my body that seemed to have surfaced during the night. My head was killing me, cracked dry blood still in my hair. I thought about washing it, but I was too scared that it would hurt. I took the gauze off the wounds on my face, grimacing at the pain. Both cuts were red and tender, looking swollen and bruised. But at least they weren't pussy, and they were clean and beginning to heal, rather than getting infected. I figured I had River to thank for that. I replaced the dressing with some normal bandaids, wanting to air the cuts a little.

I quickly had a shower and got ready, grabbing a snack from the kitchen for breakfast.

As I passed the hallways full of paintings of maids, I wondered if I'd been drawn yet. I wondered if the maids were only painted when they were dead. Then I wondered what River did with the bodies. Did he have some kind of graveyard in the mansion? Or were the bodies returned with the memories to the families? No, that couldn't be right.

So what did that mean? Maids were just forgotten? Forever? By everyone? Only kept alive by a sadistic monster's memory.