Marguerite: Promises Broken
(Jace, it's not my fault. I think my figments just have a thing for making your figments feel guilty :-). And I promise to have something happier next time)
(also see: GabrielThoughts)
“And I can stay with you forever?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll never leave?”
“No, never.”
The memory echoed coldly in 12-year-old Marguerite LeClerk’s mind, despite the warm summer day that surrounded her. It was late June, and while the city of Paris had recovered from the recent bloody riots, the people left behind were still raw with grief. Little Marguerite, sitting huddled on a bench in the Luxumbourg, was far from an exception. She still reeled from the shock and horror of losing Laigle, the person who had been guardian, brother, and closest friend to her for the past four years, since he had found her a sick, starving child on the streets.
The same monologue that had been haunting her little brain for the past several weeks continued to burn. He promised. He promised never to leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone again. I can’t, I just can’t. I was bad at taking care of myself then, and I’ll be even worse now. And I want Gabriel back. I want-
Her body shook with sobs, and passerbyers began to look at her oddly. Marguerite, though, was in no state to notice, let alone care. How could he do this to me? Did he even think of me? Didn’t he care? They were bitter thoughts for a child, but she felt abandoned, not for the first time in her life, by the person she cared about most. Death had stolen her mother away years ago, and now its cruel hand had closed around “her” Laigle. And again she was left to fend for herself in the dark world.
And same thoughts continued to echo in her mind.
He promised. He promised.