The Guillotine Survivor

Chapter 3

A/N: Hey Morningstars here :) I'd like to thank everyone reading this so far! Haha, I know it's not much, but it stills means a lot. I'm glad that you all like this story! Please comment, vote, and fan also. I know it took awhile for me to write this chapter, but I was really busy. Anyways I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3

            My mouth dropped, and my gaze flickered, disbelievingly from my mother to Pierre. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Before this visit I had maybe seen Pierre twice? “Pardon me?” I asked, still attempting to be polite.

            My mother studied me, a worried expression plastered on her pretty face. Pierre glanced at her, a confused look on his own face. “I hadn’t the time to tell her yet,” my mother explained to Pierre, apologetically.

            “Oh that’s alright,” Pierre replied. “I got to surprise her myself.” I tensed as Pierre took one step closer to me and cupped my chin in his large, beefy hand. He tilted my face up so I was forced to look into his eyes or be considered rude. “What say you?”

            I could feel my mother’s stern and harsh gaze pressing into the back of my neck. The feeling of suffocation rushed over me, prohibiting me from breathing. My world was slowly collapsing in on me, and I was powerless to stop it. If I denied Pierre, my parents would probably disown me, and throw me out of the house. However, if I accepted, I would forever live in misery. The choice came down to wanting to be rich, but unhappy, or poor but happy. Pierre had begun to search my eyes, looking for anything that would give away my intentions. Their hazel glow warned me that my decision must be made soon.

            “It sounds wonderful,” I lied, copying my mother and plastering a fake smile onto my face.

            Immediately, the tension evaporated in the room, and everyone broke out in wide grins. I could feel my throat expanding, so I struggled to hold my tears down. My father nodded, approvingly, and my mother had flitted to his side, smug from her victory. A small tear trickled down my cheek, so I looked away trying to hide it. However, Pierre saw and looked at me, puzzled.

            “Is something wrong?” he asked.

            I shook my head, adamantly. “No, of course not,” I objected. “I’m just so happy.”

            Despite the hollowness of my words, Pierre bought into them, wholeheartedly. He ran his thumb along my cheek, wiping away the tear. “It certainly is a time for rejoice!” he exclaimed, jovially. “Let us prepare a feast!”

            “Yes, yes, let’s,” my father chimed in, not wanting to be outdone. “We will have the finest meats, sweats, and wines.”

            “Good. Now let us go make the arrangements. I don’t want my Marie waiting too long.”

            My father nodded and began to shuffle off towards the kitchen to alert the cooks. Pierre leaned down and gave me a kiss on the forehead before following him. With one last glare at my mother, I stormed to my bedroom, no longer able to hold my tears in any longer. After barging into my bedroom, I crumpled onto my bed as sobs racked through my body. I jolted upright when a slender hand ran down my back, but I relaxed when I realized it was Faye.

            “What’s wrong?” she asked.

            “Everything,” I choked out. “Why are you still in here?”

            Mimi stepped forward from the corner of my bedroom where she had been hidden from my view. “We were just tidying up your room a little,” she explained.