Just me and you

1789 the beginning

In 1789 I turned 17 and I've been that way ever since.

Back then my name was Abbé Sieyés I was French and about to be married. I thought my life was complete. My parents had money, a big house, and status. I was an only child and I was happy.

The year I turned seventeen was the start of the French Revolution. I'm not saying I had anything to do with it, it's just a coincidence. I hope.

My parents and I lived in a small town, my father was the towns barrister and his best friend the town lawyer, Mr. Clark.

It was the day of my 17th, we were sitting on he veranda looking out over the fields enjoying pastries and champagne. When Mr Clark arrived, he sat next to me. I still remember the feeling, his warmth radiating on to me, his golden hair shimmering like corn fields. I was in love. Or so I thought.

Clark got off the chair and kneeled in front of me, he pulled out a small black case and opened it showing me the most exquisite diamond ring I had ever seen. Everything went hazy, it was only when he spoke that I returned to a state of normality.

"veux-tu m'épouser?" (Will you marry me?")

"Oui!" (Yes)

So it was decided that I was to be married and I had never been happier.

What I did not know was that Clark was a drunk, and an abusive jealous drunk at that. I was sure I loved him and that he loved me. Boy, was I mistaken.

It was the night before our wedding when I found out just how bad of a drunk he was. He came to my family's house that night and demanded to see me. My parents were at the opera so the maid let him in thinking it would be okay seeing as he was my fiancé.

I don't remember much of my human life, when humans are changed their whole DNA is rewritten. Some personality traits are lost and so are most memories.

Yet I remember that night so clearly, the pain and the look on Clarks face is seared on my memory. Never to leave me. Never to go away.

He burst in to my room, slapped the maid to the floor and pushed her out of the room. Then he turned and locked the door. I had tried to hide but he saw me and charged towards me, he grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I cracked my head on the post of my bed, the pain shot through me and my eyes closed.

The next thing I knew, I was in the ally way between my house and the governors. My head hurt and my hair was damp as though it had be raining. Seeing that I had come too Clark picked me up and slammed my body against the wall, I let out a pained whimper and he did it again. and again. and again. Each time I let out a whimper, and tried to beg him to stop, he did smacked me against the wall again. Then he dragged my body against the wall bringing me up to his eye level and spat on me.

"Ai-je dit que vous pourriez parler? petite salope! n'avez vous osez parler de nouveau avec mon autorisation!" (did i say you could speak? you little bitch! dont you dare speak again with out my permission!)

I was slammed against that wall so many times I lost count. All I could see was him, I could see his eyes burning with anger, I could see his arm muscles pulling back and pushing forward every time he slammed me in to that bloody wall. By this time it was a bloody wall, it was covered in my blood and smelt like copper. I could hear him laughing, laughing! The bastard was enjoying this, he was enjoying my pain.

I was surprised my head hasn't caved in yet but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,well not these days anyway. Yet back then all I wanted was to die.

After what felt like year he spoke again.

"bonne petite fille, vous ne serez jamais reparler quand im fini avec vous. Vous êtes une pute. une pute. Je parie que vous pensiez que cela ne me surprend le savoir. mais je ne l'ai pas moi! votre dégoûtant juste attendre jusqu'à je fait!" (Good little girl, you will never speak again when I'm finished with you. You're a whore. A common whore. Bet you thought I wouldn't find out. But I did didn't I! You're disgusting just wait till I'm done! )

By this point I was on the verge of death waiting for the final push. I wasn't paying attention to what he was blabbering on about. All I wanted was death.

I noticed he'd finished talking, but it wasn't that which caught my attention it was the glinting of something metal. A knife to be precise.

I felt the knife slash across my face, I felt it cut in to my torso, I felt it it graze my arms, I felt it stab my thigh, and finally I felt it penetrate my neck. Then he left.

I was a mass of bloody ribbons, strewn out on the floor of an alley way. Yet I hadn't died. I wanted to but I wasn't. He had caved in my skull, he had marked my anatomy with his knife but the prick hadn't killed me.

It was then I heard footsteps, I was actually happy thinking he'd comeback to finish the job. I was mistaken. This mystery figure called out into the darkness, asking if there was anyone there. But I couldn't reply, I tried and failed.

The figure came closer. Then I was picked up, I groaned from the pain of being moved. That little bit of pain was enough, I was then unconscious.

I was laid down again, it hurt. The figure then pushed what felt like a cold glass against my lips and told me to drink. I didn't recognise his voice and I didn't recognise what I was drinking straight away.

It was warm, thick and it kept flowing. I kept drinking. It smelt and tasted like copper. It was blood.