Persephone's Angel

Many Happy Returns

(A/N)

Hello all! I'm not going to take up too much of your reading time with this little announcement (I hope); but there are several things I need to tell you, dear readers. 1. I am in my school musical (we're doing the 'Wizard of Oz') and I may not update as often because we're going to meet three times a week; Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays (or Fridays, whichever is available for the dance teacher) and our rehearsals will run from 3:00pm to 6:00 (and, on my dance teacher time, that's probably 6:30) so I may not push out chapters as often. (My dance teacher worked on Broadway, and both the chorus teacher and dance teacher have stated several times that this production is going to run like a Broadway musical!)

2. In my creative writing class we have to write a novella (or, for me, novel) and since I'm going to be so busy with making the Final Liar dress, the musical, and trying to update this I figured I would send her 'Yellow' (for those of you who haven't read 'Yellow' and are Phans, I think you should try it!) Should I do it? 3. Anyone who lives in the NC area, listen up! 'Les Miserables' is coming to the Raleigh Memorial Auditorium from February 11th-23d (I'm going to see it!) so, if you want to see it, go ahead and secure your tickets! (I was hoping Ramin Karimloo would be in this tour, but, sadly, I don't believe he is). That is all!

 Chapter Fifteen: Many Happy Returns

--* A few weeks passed without a single word from Monsieur William, but my Opera Ghost swore he didn't kill him.

My birthday was closing in upon us and every time I went to visit Hamish he would boot me out! He always smiled to me and said "your cake will be bigger than La Carlotta's! Ten tiers--no, no!--we'll make it fifteen tiers!" He would cry, I usually laughed and he bowed to me, returning to the kitchen. 

Both Firmin and La Carlotta returned, however, when Firmin returned his clothes were raggedy, soiled and torn in many places. He fell to his knees in the lobby and Moncharmin rushed to him; he was taken into his room and cared for by the nurses, a doctor was called also but determined the problem was malnourishment and dehydration. Although, I could see scars, bruises, and wounds covering my uncle's body. I wasn't so heartless as to not feel bad for him; I pitied him, sure he was quite rude and overbearing and a prideful arse, but, no one, not even he, needs to be beaten so viciously for it. Then again...the memory of my kitten's collar surfaced and I looked up to him...could this, in any way, be connected to the events that happened almost twelve years ago?

I was quite certain that it was.  

I remained in my uncle's room when everyone left, I sat on the side of the bed and gave a weak smile to him. "Perse...Persephone?" He asked, I leaned close to hear him.

"Yes?" I asked and he pointed to his dresser.

"In the third drawer...the bottle.." he said, fading into a whisper. Over I went and into the third drawer when I found a full bottle of whiskey. He sighed in satisfaction and asked me to get a shot glass for him, and, one for myself, if the fancy to drink took me. I took only one shot glass from the glass cabinet in the corner and returned to his side. I poured the whiskey for him and he graciously took the shot glass, putting it to his lips and drinking the entire thing down quickly.

We did this around seventeen times.

He chuckled and the whites of his eyes were now the colour red, he sighed. "What did you do on your 'holiday'?" I asked, I wanted answers and I was so relieved that he wanted to drink, it would be easier to get them out of him that way.

"Mustn't tell! Mustn't tell!" He cried, laughing, then, he looked up to me and all of his features relaxed; he was no longer giggly and happy, but sober realization passed over his face. "Oh" he said hollowly "oh, no"