The forgotten Schuyler sister

Safe in his arms

Me and my mom were fighting again.  I don't even know what it was about.  She hit me.  Hard.  Across the face, leaving me wounded physically and emotionally.  I am drained.  I sneak out my window to the only safe place I know, Laf's house.

I run through the dark streets, hugging myself against the cold winter weather.  Tears are freezing to my face as I push onwards.

I finally arrive.  I straighten my spine and try to regain my composure.  I ring the doorbell.

The door swings open.

"Peggy ! Oh mon Dieu ! Vous êtes un gâchis, nous allons vous nettoyer ma chérie. Venez en. (Peggy!  Oh my god!  You're a mess, lets clean you up my darling. Come in.)"  He ushers me inside.

I am too upset to care about the fact that he called me his darling.

"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas ? (What's wrong?)" He asked worriedly.

"C'est ma mère. J'ai j'ai (it's my mom, I  I)" I broke down in tears, sitting hard and hugging my knees to my chest.

"Oh, Peggy, Peggy, oh, mon amour (my love), oh, Peggy, Peggy, Peggy." He said soothingly, stting down next to me and holding me close to him.

I finally calmed down.

He lets me wash my face and gives me a pair of his clothes to wear.  They are huge on me.  He puts on a movie called Le chat noir (the black cat).  I curl up next to him on the couch.  I eventually fall asleep on his shoulder as he strokes my hair and leans into me.  I have never slept better in my life.