I stumble aimlessly down a filthy street, attracting only a few glances, all of which are quickly turned away in favour of more interesting prospects. Hurt clouds my judgement thickly, and I find myself wondering why I am even still on this earth. What use has God for a heart-broken servant girl, now that he has had her crushed by the only person that meant something to her?

There is no point in asking, so I push that thought away and wallow in self-pity. It is sad, but I cannot think of one reason to continue my life, at least not in the Doyle household. Working there can only deepen the hurt. I resolve not to return, ever.

I may not have a chance of ever forgetting Kartik and what he has done to me, but I can at least dull the pain, stow away his memory in a seldom-visited part of my own mind. Yet such a feat seems unreachable now, in the time where the scattered pieces of my heart are still quivering and jabbing painfully at me.

Emily, I say to myself, when did you become so weak?

When that cold-hearted bastard decided I was not worth even pretending for.

My last words to Kartik are true at the moment, but I know that I cannot despise him for long. Love doesn't just burn out like that, if indeed it was love I felt for him. And what else could it have been?

I moan involuntarily as I think of what a mess I am, what I have made of my life.

Couldn't I have just liked Kartik, and fallen for a simple boy without an English lover?

Of course not, Emily. You always make the worst of everything in your life.

How true. I could not even secure the love of my own family, who practically disowned me in favour of my younger sister. Liza has always been more noticable, with her golden hair and big dark eyes. She laughs more than me, too. My sister is carefree in every aspect; she has never had to worry in her life, and it shows in her young energetic face and ever-present smile. She is five years younger than me, and I know for a fact that Mum and Da never planned on her birth, yet they love her so much more.

While they cuddled and babied her, I worked for our food, hiring myseld out to do the most dispicable jobs. I was simply lucky that I was not appealing to men seeking bought love, for surely if there had been a chance my parents would have sold me off to them. I nearly shudder at the thought.

Liza. Merely another person who stole love from me, love that I had expended and was never returned. It does not take a strong will to hate such a person. Gemma and Liza are the ones I focus the burning rage on, not Kartik or Mum or Da. They were simply bewitched by the untrue charm that was thrown upon them. A charm I never posessed. No one loves me, and never will.

Just then I spot a dark alleyway and turn into it, uncaring of what could find me in the hidden passageway. The walls are high and forbidding, piles of trash dashed against them. Rodents scurry before me feet, squeaking desperately as they flee from the sound of my footsteps. I see a tiny one by chance, it's small shape barely recognizable. I crouch down and pick it up by the tail, ignoring it's pathetic sounds of panic.

As if I am in a dream, I study it slowly. It's writhing, twisting bulk is unreal. I rise and begin walking again, holding the struggling rat tightly. I pinch it's tail and it tries to bend on itself to bite me, but I shake it around a bit, jarring the tiny animal. I come unexpectedly to the end of the alley, which has been much shorter than it seemed. I have emerged into a street even more shadowy and dirt-ridden than the first. It seems to be inhabited, so I take a reluctant step out of the shadows, my common sense returning slightly.

The rat still fights me, and I look on it with pity, my least favourite emotion.

"Poor thing," I whisper insincerely.

Suddenly a group of boys steps out of a beaten up door, crowding out onto the street. There are four of them, all dressed in poor clothing. They are bigger than me, and I guess the whole group to be around seventeen, though one stands nearly a head taller than the rest, and his trousers are too short for him. As I scrutinize them, a faint warning borders on the edge of my brain. I realize that a lone girl in this neighborhood will be irrestistible bait for the raucous boys.

Too late. One's head is moving around on his shoulders, apparently bored with whatever his friends are discussing. Finally, his eyes land on me, and widen considerably. I look at his smashed-in face and see thorough disbelief for a moment, then he turns away from me to alert his friends. I take this oppurtunity to melt back into the shadows, my common sense returning in full blast.

Perhaps I can still escape. My grip on the rat's tail loosens, and he somehow manages to scurry up onto my arm. I scream chillingly, and he bites into my forearm viciously, small body hanging to my flesh. I gasp in another mouthful of air and grab him, throwing the rodent off of my body in a frenzied movement. Panic returns at the worst of times, mixed with the stinging, scalding pain of the bite. I remember the boys, but they do not fully register as a threat compared to the dark alley full of rats, who I imagine are all preparing to ambush me if I dare to flee back to the main road. Foolishly, I sprint back the direction I came, back to the light.

My face is turned behind me as I barrel straight into the chest of my waiting attacker. I am knocked flat on my back, winded by the unexpected impact. The gray sky above me shows nothing, only tiny black dots that I am sure are being generated by my own mind. I begin to scramble back, but a grubby hand takes hold of my dress, yanking me forwards and up by the collar, which rips substansially. I squeak in alarm and work my limbs into the air, trying to fight them off, but the boys have surrounded me, and attacking them shall only lead to more pain on my behalf.

I stand up by myself, looking around at them. The big one is in front of me like a brick wall, while Pig-Face stands to my right, sneering in triumph. The other two are more lanky, but cold menace gleams in the eyes of the boy on my left, unhidden in the icy blue depths. I spin around and stare at the cow-eyed boy behind me.

He is trying to glare but it is to strenuous for him, and sweat beads up on his brow as I watch. He wrinkles his nose and looks me over. Cow-Eye, Pig-Face and Brick are obviously the followers, and I sense that it must have taken quite an explanation from the ring-leader over there to get them to circle me like this. I find a small comfort in these nicknames and still the trembling that has overtaken me body.

"What do you want?" I demand icily, glaring at the ring-leader, whose nickname sounds much too jovial to be applied to it's owner.

"Jus' a visit, darlin'," he responds coolly, and I feel my resolve wavering already. He seems to know that I cannot be fearless.

"I need to be home soon," I state plainly, and Pig-Face bursts into a spell of laughter. Leader glances at him witheringly.

"What Billy over there means is, we decide when you need to be home. Got it?"

I stare him down valiantly, thinking myself brave until he steps in towards me and raises his hand. In the next moment I am back on the ground, my face numb and tingly. I expect the pain will come later.

Three of the boys are chuckling, and I stagger up uncertainly. Leader continues as if nothing has happened, but his eyes are even harder. "You see, the boys and I are feeling a bit... bored, if you know what I mean." I look at him inpassively and then glance around, wondering what he is planning. Then I see the bulge in Cow-Eye's pants, and blanch. My face goes pale and clammy, and I look back at Leader, terrified.

"Please," I say, regretingly my boldness. "Just let me go."

"We will. That is after we've had our fun with you, eh, boys?" They cheer in agreement, and I feel the circle closing in around me.

"P-please." I stammer, but they take no notice. Leader puts his hand on my arm, and I flinch, avoiding his eyes.

"Sorry, hon," he says without meaning it, and grabs me around the waist. He addresses his posse casually. "Hit the road, boys."

They look a bit disappointed, especially Cow-Eyes, who glares at his leader before taking a step back. Pig-Face doesn't seem to mind, and I resolve that his interest must lie in men. Come to think of it, Brick seemed like the sort he would be interested in. I struggle to keep my face from erupting into a smile at the thought, because it will surely earn me another slap, or maybe a punch this time.

I wish that I could pinch myself and wake up in my own bed, but it will not happen, and the nightmare gets worse as the trio leaves and I am alone with Leader. He regards me with a horrid grin and then he begins attempting to drag me out of the alley's mouth and onto the sidewalk.

Despite my over-whelming fear, a surge a panic emerges from it all and I lash out furiously as adrenaline rushes into my limbs. I force my gawky legs to aim for his groin, and before I know it Leader is writhing in pain on the ground before me, curses pouring from his mouth in a vain attempt to channel his pain. His hands automatically make a cup over the tender spot I have viciously attacked, and his back arches as if he is trying to throw the agony off of his body like on old shabby coat.

My body has become frozen as I stare at him for several moments, then he rises to his knees with murder in his eyes, and my fast-running blood goes cold. I am shocked into motion, and I daringly give him an extra kick to the gut before forcing myself to run back into the dark passageway from whence I came. My eyes stay on his curled figure for as long as possible, then I am focused on finding my way home without pausing from my wild sprint. I stumble through the blackness for an eternity, though, before the light rushes up to me and I am back on the main street, breathing heavingly.

Not far enough. My feet blur into motion again, and don't stop until I am nearly dragging myself back into the stables. It is absurdly pathetic that this is the first place my frenzied mind takes me after the horrifying ordeal, and as I slouch onto the straw I realize I'm no longer welcome here. But I cannot move; my weariness is too great.

How long it takes me to catch my breath is a mystery, but finally I am sitting upright on the makeshift chair, wishing that the last few hours had never happened. Perhaps it is just best to return to my work and use mind-numbing labour to wipe it all from my mind. Yes. That's exactly what I'll do.

I rise from the hay- but it's too late to escape the nightmare, at least the emotional part of it. Kartik appears in the doorway, and for a split second I recognie something fiery in his eyes. His liquid curls are messed and I see that his trousers are on backwards. For a moment he looks just like a romantic boy, then his dark skin tints burgoundy and he blinks away the passion in his eyes, letting it be replaced by pity.

"Emily," he says. "I'm very sorry, but..." he looks away for a second, and I can tell that he isn't nearly cruell enough to say the words, but he does. "You shouldn't come here anymore."

I swallow back the tears in my eyes, but they simply rise without calling; I still feel a need to correct him, tell him that I did not come here to beg for his love.

"That's not-"

"Please," he interrupts, looking as if he cannot stand my presence any longer. "Just go."

His voice is quiet and regretful, and I can see that nothing I say will change the fact that he is cutting me off in favour of Gemma Doyle.

I limp slightly as I approach him, touching my face withlight fingers as I take in the unnatural texturer of my forming bruise. Kartik notices my injuries for the first time, and I see his beautiful eyes widen fractionally, the only display of emotion he will allow himself. I can see that he is dying to ask, but I remain silent as I stop in front of him.

Pleading shines through me however I try to conceal it with dignity. Now Kartik turns his head away, refusing to acknowledge that I am even alive. We stand in silence as time stands still in the space between us. It is like a showdown, though one-sided. Just like my love for him.

In a subtle movement I shake my head and wish I could have despised Kartik from the start.

Then the hopeless moment is whisked away and I push past him, struggling not to actually let my body touch his. I barely succeed, but as soon as he is behind me I am running, straight out of the stables and across the gardens, my feet hitting the earth audibly. My ragged breath surrounds me, and it is almost a relief to burst into the house, where actual sounds interrupt my small, retracting universe. I can hear quiet words in the parlour as I pass, and tinny clangs come from the kitchen doors, muffled by the thick oak.

Yet no one crosses my path as I shoot unnoticed through the house. Only the colourful paintings of Gemma's ancestor's watch me with their oily, exaggerated eyes. I take the stairs two at a time at a mad pace, nearly blind as I turn Gemma's doorknob and enter the room cautiously. Thankfully, Gemma is not currently inside her room, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Although, if I had listened closely instead of throwing myself into immediate panic, I would have recognized Gemma's strong tones among those that had blurred around me as I had sped through the household.

I zip into the room and straight to Gemma's warbdrobe, knowing suddenly that I could not be caught, or else have to stay here in torture and punishment. I fling the doors open and sift through lascious gowns until I reach the back, where Gemma's older, shabbier dresses hang forlornly like discarded love letters. I grab several from their hangers and fold them over my arm, knowing that they will not be missed for a good while.

Even so, it gives me the giddy feeling that I am somehow besting Gemma, taking her dresses to start my new life. For that is exactly what it shall be. I know not where to go, but it cannot be so difficult. Anything is better than this.

I finish pilfering the great stash of clothes and shut the doors firmly as a precaution, then I move back to the door and leave that big luxurious room for the last time with one last glance back at the foor poster bed and large windows. The sheets on top of Gemma's huge mattress are messed and balled up, and with a surge of rage I realize just where Kartik had been while I had sat alone in the stables. Just as I come down from the high that has me doing ridiculous things, I am shooting back up again, using my newfound energy to make my way back down the stairs and through the hallway with reckless speed.

I almost make a detour to the kitchen to say a final goodbye to Mrs. Jones, but then I realize that I will have to go without a farewell from her, for if she finds out what I plan to do, I'll never be able to leave.

I turn away from the familiar doors and go to the back exit, finding it more and more difficult to move with the dresses draped over my arm and shoulder. I push on, though, leaving that gigantic house like the mouse I am, fleeing from the hurt this family has brought me.

I pass the stables in no time, without even a glance at where I know Kartik is standing, though his back is to me. He will not even notice me passing behind him, because he is too busy grooming a horse with soft words and a thick brush. I try not to stomp past him, though we're far enough away that he will not hear my footsteps.

After what seems like years of keeping my gaze from him, I finally turn and begin walking backwards, staring at his lovely figure as I flee. When Kartk finally disappears, a single tear slips from my eye before I can detain it, then I turn around with a swipe at my face and begin walking quickly away from the only boy I'll ever love.

No more crying, Emily, I tell myself.

Forget him.

It is time to start anew.