Entry One

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I put quill to parchment today, not to write a letter, but rather an account of events that lead to this point, as I fear I shall soon be dead.

My name is Belle Desrosiers. In a little over a week's time, I will turn 19. I live with my father and two sisters and we recently took up residence at a farm in Montpellier, in the south of France. I was born and have lived in France all of my life.

Approximately two nights ago, I was taken from my bed.

I don't know by whom. I don't know why. I don't know where. All I know is that I am now inside what appears to be a mansion.

I can still feel his hands on me.

My muffled screams could no better wake my family, let alone drown out the vulgar snores that echoed throughout the house from father's room. The last thing I remember was knocking over the coat stand by the door, but no one heard.

I was bound and hooded and taken by horse and carriage to this location.

I woke up in a foreign bedroom, nice enough, considering that I have been kidnapped. The room has two doors, one that leads to a hallway and one that leads to a small study, lined with books - the room I am writing in at present.

Although it would appear I am alone, I dare not venture out into the rest of the house. Do not think I believe that I am alone for one second - I know it's what he wants me to think. To let my guard down. To give me the illusion of freedom - a false pretence I am all too familiar with.

To say I am frightened would be an understatement. It is taking every fibre of my being to write this. My hand is shaking so much I'm losing most of the ink to the floor. Although, I am glad to have left a stain on this house. It is a small dignity to know I have ruined something of his.

Well, I can only assume it is a man...

And that smell. He smelt so strongly of... I don't even have the words to describe.

I am tired, but I dare not sleep. I am hungry, but could not fathom the thought of eating. I am cold, but I shall warm myself with the woollen blankets on the bed.

It's just all so confusing. Why kidnap me in the first place? My sisters are surely the greater prize.

Why bring me to this mansion?

Why provide me with a room and a bed?

Why the attempt to make me somewhat comfortable?

Why me?

Why me out of anyone in my family?

Oh how I miss my family so much. Henrietta, Chantelle, Papa and my love, Pierre. My dear, dear Pierre must be worried sick about me. Will I ever get a chance to be his betrothed?

Whatever shall become of me?

I must stop now. My tears are blotting the ink. Before I end this, I have one request.

If you have found this diary... please let my family know I love them.


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