She was in pain, deep and agonizing, stemming from a place in her chest and spreading throughout her entire body. She didn't want to wake, she wanted to rest, to sleep and pray that when she woke it would be gone.Â
But her waking hours were never without pain regardless. They hadn't been for the last five years.Â
The Palace was her home, the only place in the world where she felt safe, valued, happy. It had been a place of wonder when she was small and her sanctuary as a young woman. Protected and mentored by the man who had become more of a father than the man whose name she bore. Julian was her life and had been with her through almost all of hers.Â
And her life had seemed to stop when his did.Â
She didn't know for certain that he was dead, there hadn't been an obituary nor any true evidence to indicate what had happened. He had simply disappeared. She'd played through the last night she'd seen him time and time again. She had made sure that there was something for him to eat in the fridge, had tidied the books, made him a cup of tea, said her goodbyes and given him a wave as she began her walk home, safe under his watchful eye.Â
But when she arrived the next morning to open the theater, she'd found the doors still unlocked, the food she'd made still in the fridge, the tea still sat on his desk. She had hoped for an explanation, for him to simply reappear and tell her what had happened. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and by the time months had turned to years, her hopes had turned cold just as she had.Â
She poured her heart and soul into carrying on his work, ensuring that the theater was cared for in every way. She didn't care how the other staff began to avoid her, how they would whisper only to fall silent as she went into a room. She didn't care how the patrons now seemed to shrink under her glare, afraid to upset the stern usherette.Â
At least. Most of them had been. Where once cleaning and closing post the final showing had been a pleasant time shared between her and her father, working alone, they had become her personal hell. Rude and inappropriate behavior was not to be tolerated, but men tended to listen to her far less than they listened to the former manager.Â
The memory of the evening was starting to come back, her brow furrowing and breath quickening as it did. She trembled, she thrashed, the memory of those moments in the ticket booth drawing her forward in a panic.Â
Dulled hazel eyes snapped open, a horrified gasp escaping her lips. She blinked, trying to gather her bearings.Â
Until at once she was frozen solid by the sight of the man before her.Â