Save Me (On Hold)

Chapter 1

Genevieve pulled her shawl tighter around her small shoulders. It was cold, and raining to boot. She walked quickly through the mud, not even bothering to hold up her skirts. Her dress was beyond repair anyways.

She coughed, a chest-racking cough that shook her whole frame, and paused to lean against the wall and catch her breath. The dirty alley was silent, and dark. She leaned her head against the brick  and her breath wheezed. The cold and rain was only making her sickness worse. Her head raged with fever and she felt herself becoming dizzy; everything was spinning around her.

Genevieve felt a hand on her arm and she jumped in fright.

"Now now, what's the matter, you ain't scared of us are yeh girl?" came a rather unpleasant voice to her right. She couldn't even manage to shake her head; it was pounding too hard.

The other men in the group surrounded her, all laughing and smiling gap-toothed grins. They weren't terribly old, but Genevieve knew them to all be street urchins.

"Ahh, come on Bill, she's too weak to fight, it'll be easy. Check her for any money!"

Bill pondered this and finally nodded his head, breathing foul breath in her ear.

"Too weak to scream, that's all the better for us." With this, he pressed a sloppy kiss to her neck and she nearly retched. This man really was foul. His hands were dirty and his face and clothes had the signs of never having seen a bath. The men laughed and began to put hands in her hair, on her dress and on her arms. She struggled weakly and managed to whisper hoarsely "Help, help."

This made Bill and the men laugh harder. Genevieve closed her eyes and summoned all of the breath she had before she opened her small mouth and screamed, a scary bloodcurdling scream.

Bill punched her in the face and squeezed her tight. "Shutup! Shutup I tell you!"

Genevieve cried out in pain and felt blood running down her chin and dripping onto her dress. She sagged in her captor's arms and prayed silently to God to send her help in this situation.

Just as Bill began to grab her skirt, he was suddenly ripped from her, and she heard him scream in pain and the snap of a bone. The other men began to shout and run off, and Genevieve sagged against the wall, the fever now overcoming her. She knew she was going to die, but she sent a silent prayer to God thanking him that her death would not be by those disgusting mens' hands.

She had just began to close her eyes when a large warm hand rested against her cheek.

"Bloody hell!" the voice said.

Genevieve felt arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her to her feet. As soon as she was on her feet, her head spun and she felt her body go limp, falling into the stranger's arms. The last thing she recalled was being lifted against a warm chest and the smell of lemon and sandalwood mixing with the smell of the rain.

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Genevieve opened her heavy eyes, it was dark, and she struggled to lift her head, not recognizing her surroundings. A withered hand rested on her arm and pushed her back into the bed. "Rest dear, youre very ill and you need your strength, you're safe now."

Genevieve fell back in relief and felt drowsiness overcome her. She felt a warm rag sponging her sweaty face, and a deep, masculine voice say, "How does she fare, Greta?"

The woman Genevieve supposed was Greta, sighed deeply and turned to look down at Genevieve."

"The lass is a fighter, I tell you that, but she be so small, my lord, so weak. It be hard to tell whether she'll pull through."