Page 5 of Roses for the Damned

Florent deserved the most horrendous of deaths for what he had done to her – for what he would have been successful in had Gabriel not interfered.

To make things even worse, there was no one to punish him; the authorities would be on Florent’s side seeing as his father was the mayor and no one would be so stupid as to go against him and his word.

After all, she was a courtesan, who would ever believe her?

Finally having finished with her morning pampering and changing into a plain burgundy day dress, Rose crept to her father’s bedroom on the lower floor, the spare medicine bottle held tightly in her hand as she slowly peered inside.

“Daughter,” a hoarse voice reached her, “where have you been?”

Sighing, she approached the frail man, taking a seat on the mattress beside him as she poured a spoonful of the brown liquid. “Good morning, father, it’s time for your morning dose.”

He gulped it down, his gray eyes that were a slightly lighter shade than her dark ones staring back, observing Rose carefully, as if sensing that something was wrong.

“I was waiting for you.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you when I got home–” Banging noises reached them from below, cutting her words short. “Don’t worry father, everything is alright.” Planting a light kiss on his forehead, Rose quickly made her way to the front of the house where angry shouting could be heard. The door swung open, preparing to lay one on whoever was threatening to bust down the wooden panel, when she froze.

Three police-men surrounded the mayor, whose grotesque abdominal fat seemed to have grown since the last time that Rose had seen him. A crowd was gathered behind them, the familiar faces of her neighbors staring back at her, shouting obscenities – at who, she wasn’t sure.

“Rose Boudin,” one of the police-men stepped forward as the other two grabbed her arms, “you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Florent Lacroix–”

“What?!”

Yanking her, Rose stumbled, attempting to regain her balance, panic setting in as the implications of her current situation set it.

“You are to be tried tonight at sundown and hanged after your sentence has been declared.” The crowd roared, curses and rotten food flying at them.

“No, wait! This is a mistake!”

“There are witnesses Miss Boudin, do not try to refute your crime.”

A short stocky woman in her forties with flaming red hair caught her eye. “Marie!” she grabbed her arm, “Marie! Look after my father, he must not know!” Firm hands pulled her again, her hold faltering. “Please, Marie!”

“Don’t you worry, dear, he’s in good hands.” Concern wrinkled Marie’s forehead, her eyes filled with moisture as the authorities led Rose away. “You take care of yourself, you hear me?”

As uniformed men pushed her into a carriage with iron bars and the inevitable conclusion dawned on her, Rose’s eyes flew to the two story washed out building in front of her, the very same one where she had been born, where she had taken her first steps. Where all of her happiest memories were packed and greatest sorrows still gripped her heart. Would she ever see it or the man who had given her life, again?

The carriage rolled on, the lower class district passing by, a murky canal coming into view. Her breath hitched, their surroundings causing alarm bells to go off in her mind as Rose became very aware of where they were headed to – the Bastille, an impenetrable fortress housing the city’s main prison, a hell of its own where the only way to get out was in a body bag.

Lungs straining, she desperately tried to calm herself, to not give in to the rising panic that seemed to be a recurring state for her for the past day.

I can’t go there, I’ll never make it out alive.

The police-man sitting across from Rose wasn’t paying her any attention, as if she wasn’t anything but an annoying fly on the wall. Fingers curled around her dress, gripping it to the point of tearing.

I have to get away. I have to–

The carriage jerked, coming to an abrupt halt. Before she could even ask what was happening, the doors swung open, revealing none other than the mayor himself.

“Get out,” he said to the police-man, then turning, took a seat on the bench in front of her. “Rose, Rose, Rose–” he tsked, “What am I to do with you? You almost killed my son, yet he is willing to make amends with you.”

Fury roared through her as she saw crimson. How dare he. “He is willing to make amends with me?” She leaned in, getting in the man’s face. If she was going to die she might as well go out with a bang. After all, what more did she have to lose? “He assaulted me, almost fucking raped me, and you have the gall to sit here and insult me?”

An ugly smirk plastered itself onto the man’s grotesque face, the rolls of fat hanging under his chin like an accordion. “You are a worthless whore, whatever made you think you had a choice about who fucks you?” She grimaced, repulsed. “If I was my son, I wouldn’t have even bothered waiting to get what I’m owed. But he’s a stupid shit, and so, here we are.” A piece of parchment appeared in his stocky fingers. “You are to be hanged for your crime–”

“I’m innocent.”

“Do you think me simple-minded, Rose? My boy came back barely alive, with flesh hanging down his battered body. There was more blood on him than flowing through his veins!” he roared, his face taking on a livid red hue. “I don’t know how you did it, but there is no escape for you. Not unless you marry Florent. That is his condition for dropping the charges.”

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