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---Rosie POV---
It had been two years since Zach and I ran away together. My hair had grown out quickly, so I dyed it blonde with a highlighter-pink stripe down the side. Eli and Kristen had been given a giant studio apartment in Paris France. We all had decided that we’d live there.
It wasn’t anything too spectacular but it was pretty awesome. It was on the top floor, twelfth floor, and in the winter, if you went out onto the balcony, you could see the Eiffel Tower. All we really had were mattresses and a pillow and blanket each. We didn’t need much anyway. None of us were home very often.
We all had jobs to go to, well at least I did. I’m not positive about the others. Kristen I know worked. She always came home upset about her terrible job as a waiter in a French restaurant. Apparently, they were fairly hateful people out there during the day. Zach said that that’s why he wouldn’t let me get a job during the day. Kristen could take care of herself, but I couldn’t. So every night he’d drop me off at my work, get trashed, then come back and pick me up when it closed.
What was my job you ask? Well, after enough time spent with the, as he called them, “goodies” Zach had given me to try, I realized that I loved to perform in front or people. He told me that he knew of a little place down town that I could work at. It was called “Vivre Danseuses.” I don’t know what it translated to at the time; I just thought “Anything to live my dream!” He talked to the manager showed me to him, and convinced him to hire me.
On my first day, I was giving a “uniform” and a song to sing. They gave me the lyrics earlier that day and told me I’d perform it that night. They also gave me the CD that played the song. On the sheet it said the song was entitled “Guérison Sexuelle” by Marvin Gaye. Whoever he was, they liked his song and thought it fit to play that night. Another thing was they said I had to dance while I sang it. So, that night, I did all of that. Other girls were out too, but on separate stages. Those girls danced around closer to the gentlemen watching us and tended to use the fire poles that I found were on every stage but the main one. It was weird. I noticed that the only employees this guy had were extremely beautiful girls in skimpy dresses shaking themselves at random men. I felt confused, flattered, and happy all at the same time.
I went home that morning, after making 117 dollars in tips, and looked up the place on Kristen’s phone. I went onto Google translate and found it meant “Live Dancing Girls.” Still confused, I looked up Live Dancing Girls. It turns out…IT WAS A STRIP CLUB!!!!! I was furious! I went looking for Zach. He had just finished sniffing some “Energy Salt”, as he called it, with Eli and Isaac. I should have known better than to shout at him, but I was just so angry.
“A STRIP CLUB!?!?!” I screamed at him, “YOU GOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND A JOB AT A FUCKING STRIP CLUB?!?!?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!??!!”
Before I could continue, he slapped me so hard across the face; I hit the ground with a thud. It stung super bad, I had tears forming in my eyes, but I knew better than to cry after being struck.
“YOU UNGREATFUL WHORE!!!” he screamed, “I BEGGED THAT MAN TO HIRE YOU SO YOU COULD LIVE YOUR DREAM!!!! LETS FACE IT, THAT HOT BODY OR YOURS IS ALL YOU GOT!!!! QUIET YOUR BITCHING AND GET THE FUCK OVER IT!!!!” he leaned over slightly placing his hand gently on the spot he had just struck me down in, “My love, I don’t like hitting you. You just frustrate me sometimes. I do what I do because I love you and I want you happy. Hitting you just seems to be the only way to stop you long enough for you to listen to reason.”
I nodded obediently. I guess it was true, he only ever struck me when I got angry at him for something and raised my voice. I had made it my fault for my bruises, it was never his. Light tears fell from my eyes.
“I’m so sorry baby,” I wept, “I’m so sorry for making you hit me. The job is wonderful and I love it,” I took his face in my hands, “And I love you soo much. Please forgive me?”
He smiled softly and kissed the top of my head.
“Always love.” He straightened and helped me to my feet, “How about we take so more of that medicine and get you off to bed?”
I nodded slightly, smiling at the man I loved, then dashed off to get my lighter and, as Kristen called it, my “Bong”.
That’s how everyday for those two years had gone. As time progressed, I made a friend at work. Her name was Adelaide Ramus and she was a dark haired French girl with crystal eyes. She was so smart and so kind, but you could see the age and pain in her eyes. She hated her job, and I soon found out why. After working there for a few months, you were instructed to flirt and do whatever the gentlemen callers wanted, as long as they paid you. Adelaide had only been sixteen when she started working here. I felt so bad for her.
We had become close enough that we told each other our life stories. She told me about what it was like to be an orphan and be moved from foster house to foster house. How she ran away from the last house because she couldn’t take it anymore. I in return told her everything of my own. She smiled brightly when I talked about Celtic Thunder and the boys. Especially when I talked about George and his family taking me in. However, once I started telling her about running away here with Zach and the others, she frowned.
Over the time we spent together, she witnessed a few of the time Zach struck me and I apologized to him. One day, she told me that by doing that, I was disgracing women everywhere. After a while of defending Zach against her, I started to listen. It was never my fault for him hitting me. He had always done something stupid that I’d call him out on first! I never said anything to him about it though. I just kept my mouth shut and suffered in silence, once again.
When everyone slept, I often lied awake thinking about my home in Scotland. My heart and soul ached to be back there. I wondered how Sarah had grown. I wondered even if the guys missed me. More importantly, I wondered if Paul still had any feelings for me. Would he still love me if he knew what I’ve done?
It had almost been three years of me being gone that I snapped. I packed all my things, minus all the “things” he had given me, and took a cab to work. Zach had fallen asleep after doing a tad bit too much of something, so I’d be safe until he woke up. I left a dear john letter on the floor by his passed out body and left.
When I got to work, it had started to pour. I ran to the back room where the girls got ready. Running up to Adelaide, I hugged her tight.
“I’m leaving here,” I spoke into her hair, still hugging her; “I’m leaving France and going home to my family.” I pulled away and held her at arm’s length, “Come with me,” I begged, “Come with me and we’ll be safe.”
Adelaide sighed, tears forming in her eyes.
“I’m not coming with you my dear. You belong with them, I belong somewhere else. That’s just how things are.” She smiled warmly at me, “I’m glad that you’re going home. Say bonjour to that boy of yours waiting on you for me, alright?”
I nodded then wondered over to the payphone they kept back here for us. After getting past all the “different countries” bull over the phone, I dialed that familiar number. My nerves got the better of me, so I hung up before anyone could answer. This happened maybe five times before I forced myself to stay on the line. Then, he answered.
“Hey,” tears fell as I realized he remembered my voice, “I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and I will….but…um…do how fast do you think you can get to Paris?”
“How soon do you need me there?”
A couple tears fell, knowing that he would still come and save me.
“Honestly….almost three years ago.”
“We’ll be there ASAP. It’s wonderful to hear your voice Rose.”
I smiled, knowing he missed me.
“Yours too Paul.”