Gone Too Soon • Hamilton {John Laurens}

c h a p t e r | t h i r t y o n e

Eliza's POV

The guard that King George had previously called Adam, tied my mouth again and pushed me in front of him, gesturing to walk.

I did as told, not focusing on his instructions but instead Brielle.

Please let her be okay. What did she do to deserve this? How are we going to get out of this mess?

My thoughts were interrupted by a scream coming form the hallway we were turning opposite from.

"Brielle!" I shouted through the rope and turned around to where the screams were coming from. I knew that voice anywhere.

"Stop!" Adam yelled and held me by my shoulders, turning me around.

"Brielle! Stop! Stop hurting her!" I yelled again through the ropes, knowing that the redcoat could not understand what I was saying anyway.

He continued to push me through the halls, me sobbing the whole way. Generally just giving up. There was nothing I could do. No one would save me, and I couldn't save Brielle from the amount of pain she is in right now.

We stopped at the palace's entrance, and we waited.

Waited and waited and waited.

It was roughly an hour and a half until redcoats marched to the entrance we were at. King George leading them, as if he was going to fight. Ha. Good one. Two red coats stood beside him, one holding a person bridal style.

Not just any person. No.

Brielle.

I watched them march toward us in triumph as they held Brielle. As they got closer I could see her injuries better.

Tears poured down my face as I saw her tattered dress and bloody figure.

"Brielle." I sobbed. She can't be- no they wouldn't.

I saw the very shallow breaths she was taking in the redcoats arms, bloody cuts lay on her wrists and shoulders. And one nasty gash across her leg. And of course bruises scattered across her face and arms.

Oh Brielle.

Everything around me was blocked out in a blur, my only focus being Brielle. She was going to bleed to death.

They put us in separate carriages and the rest of the troops marched in front of us. I couldn't help her.

Thousands of British soldiers. Marching to attack America, Brielle and I in their hands.

The last thing King George said before he most likely retreated off to Britain was, "Draw me a picture of Washington's face when he sees his daughter!" And then the carriage door was slammed shut.

We were part of this war now.

(A/N:
S
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Loosing motivation to W
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