Untitled

Chapter I

A single carriage rattled by, splashing mud all over my white dress. I sighed and kept walking, regretting every aspect of this trip.
    The street was covered by a smog that was part natural cloud, part fumes. A few men up ahead jeered at me, reeling around on the sidewalk. I checked over my shoulder, not that there would be a carriage at this time of night, and crossed the street. There was no way I could deal with them after such a long day.
    Unfortunately for me, I had already caught their attention. They whistled at me and called me to join them. There should've been police on this road, but they were absent. Probably drinking as well.
    My package was slowly tearing, and I clutched it tighter. It was awkward to carry now, but it would be even harder if it broke open.
    "Need help with that, cherie?" One of the drunk men had followed me across the road.
    I shook my head and walked faster.
    "Surely a pretty thing like you wants help. I'll escort you. What's in the package?"
    "Please, monsieur, leave me be."
    "You're a fancy lady. You must have something awfully important in there," he said as he staggered after me.
    I picked up my pace, but he was intent on finding out the contents. "Hey! Come back!" he said loudly. I ignored him and kept walking.
    He lunged after me and grabbed my wrist. "Let go!" I cried, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp.
    "I said I want to know what's in there." He poked my parcel violently. He grabbed my other arm roughly and I looked to see if anyone else was in the street, but it was deserted. "Open it." His words were slurred, but still sharp with anger.
    I froze. He smelled like smoke and alcohol. He smiled a nasty smile, his teeth stained brown. "Little lady, open the package for me." His breath was rancid.
    When still I didn't move he became angry. "I said open it! Open it now!" He had a knife in his hand, I realised, and his hand was gripping my arm so hard it hurt.  The parcel slipped out of my arm and onto the ground.
    The man moved to press the knife into my side, his other hand still locked on to my shoulder. "I want your money too. All of it. Hand it over, now!" He twisted the knife and it cut through my dress, now pushing against my skin. I felt a drop of blood well up and spill onto my dress. The man was moving quickly for being drunk, which made him even more threatening.
    The only money I had was in my boots, where it couldn't be reached. "I don't have any money," I said.
    "Liar! Look at your dress. Look at your hair. Look at your pretty little face. You're made of money!" I was vaguely aware of the knife pressing harder into my side, blood running freely now, but my body had gone numb. His face was contorted with intense hatred. "Where is it? Tell me!"
    "My boots! There's money in my boots!" I was so sure he was going to kill me. He didn't even acknowledge me, just bent down and grabbed my skirt. He pushed it out of his way and tried to pry my boot off my foot.
    The laces were done too tightly and the next time he pulled I fell backwards onto the ground, screaming for someone, anyone, to help me. "Shut up!" he yelled. I kept screaming and the next thing I knew he had his knife against my throat, his knees locking my arms down. "Be quiet."
    I swallowed but didn't move. He could kill me if he wanted to. Or at least seriously hurt me. It was like I had become a doll, a puppet whose strings had been dropped. He patted me down, lingering in places he shouldn't, either for more money or just for the sheer joy of seeing the look on my face. My arms were going numb from his weight on them.
    Suddenly someone slammed into him from the side and pulled him off of me. They grabbed him in a headlock and though he started fighting, they were stronger. I watched from the ground as the drunkard slid his knife across the other man's arm, cutting through his coat and probably his skin. But a moment later the knife was in the street and the drunk man was running back the way he had come, tripping every which way.
    "Are you alright, mademoiselle?" the man asked, kneeling next to me. He was young, my age, even, and worried.
    I nodded slowly. "I'm alright." I noticed that my package was gone and assumed the other man had taken it when he ran off. "I think I'm just... winded." I was much more than winded, but I would be alright.
    He helped me stand and that was when I noticed the gash in his arm. The man had cut him hard and deep, tearing through his coat and shirt, piercing his skin.
    "Merci," I said. "I have no idea what he would have done to me had you not come."
    The man nodded. "Of course." He turned to where my package had been, presumably to give it to me, maybe to steal it, then noticed it was gone. "He took your parcel."
    "It could've been much worse than that," I said, wobbling slightly on my feet.
     "Are you sure you are alright, mademoiselle? You look unsteady."
    "I'm sure I'll be fine, I'm just worried now to walk alone." The man had run off the way I was supposed to go, and I didn't want to pass him again. My hand went to the knife wound on my side, and the man's eyes followed.
    "You need a doctor."
    "It isn't as bad as it looks." I didn't need anyone else taking advantage of me because I looked innocent.
    "If I may ask, where were you going?"
    I saw black spots dancing in the corners of my vision and tried to blink them away. "I was returning to my home."
     "Do you live close?" he asked, pulling his coat tight about him as the cold wind picked up.
    I didn't want to tell him where I lived, nor did I want him to walk me there. And it was a long way away. "No. I live on the other side of town." The black spots were swimming around faster now.
    "I could take you there. It isn't safe for a lady to be out alone at this time of night."
    "No, monsieur. I can manage." The world tilted and I blinked rapidly. Maybe I couldn't manage after all. My head must have hit the ground hard.
     "Was your parcel valuable?"
    "It can be replaced," I said, shivering in the cool air. I had no jacket or coat, just the thin lace of my dress. The world tilted again and I put my hand to my head, trying to stop the black spots from moving so quickly. My hand still had blood on it from my side.
    "Are you sure you are able to go all this way alone?" he asked as my vision swirled.
    Why did he keep asking questions? "I'm... fine," I said, and the sky kaleidoscoped. I fell and he moved forwards, catching me as the black spots expanded and covered my entire vision. That was the last thing I remembered.