My Captor, My Tormentor, My Love

Chapter 12: Vincent Morgan Saint-Leclaire / Part One - How It Began


‘Vincent’s Point of View’

My name is Vincent Morgan Saint-Leclaire, I was born 208 years ago in the French Republic of Western Europe in the year of our Lord 1799. I grew up in a Province called Saint-Laurent, France, with my parents and sister.

We lived a humble life on the coast as part of a sea-side community. My father was a fisherman and my mother a cook. Though we had little money, we were a happy and loving family. My father’s name was Morgan and my mother’s name was Madeleine. They were very much in love.

My little sister’s name was Elizabeth. She was a beautiful child, with long golden blond hair and gray eyes, who always laughed and played with her dolls.

We were a happy family until I was 14. It was then that our lives took a tragic turn for the worse, and from which my father never returned from his last fishing expedition. It was shortly before the worst winter France had seen in over a century. We had a difficult time surviving, food and money were scarce, and our landlord was pressuring my mother for the rent money.

My mother would try to get various jobs cooking for local families and taverns. She would work all through the day and into the night trying to earn extra money to feed our little family and pay the rent.

Finally, fate decided to play one last cruel joke. Late one night as she was walking home, the roads were icy and slick, a traveler was passing through and the horses drawing his carriage slipped on the ice. She never stood a chance. We were told she died instantly. We barely had time or money to give her a decent burial, when we were forced out of the only home we ever knew.

The man’s name whose carriage struck our mother, was Alexander Pierre Montrose. It was a name I would never forget. He approached us the day of the funeral and offered us accomodation at the hotel he was staying at. I should have known that something was wrong about him but I was young and grieving over the loss of my beloved mother.

My sister and I arrived at the hotel with our meager belongings. He was waiting and took us into the dining room for some warm food. We ate our food, talked, and Elizabeth quietly played with her dolls. After we were finished eating, he offered to show us to the room we would be staying in for the night.

I felt unusually tired but assumed it was stress due to the fact of buring our mother. We arrived at our room and bid goodnight to Mr. Montrose. Once we were settled in our room, I gave Elizabeth a warm bath, washed her hair and assisted her into her nightgown. I sat beside her at the bed and read her favorite story from her book she had brought with her from our home.

After she fell asleep, I looked down at her and brushed her long bangs off her forehead then leaned down to kiss her goodnight. She looked so sweet and innocent lying there on her pillow, just like a little angel, and I thanked God she was still with me. I could barely keep my eyes open and went over to my bed next to her’s. I was so tired I just fell across it still in my clothes and instantly fell asleep.

When I woke up the next day, I looked at my watch and was shocked to notice that it was late in the afternoon. I quickly arose and looked for Elizabeth. She wasn’t in her bed. Panicking, I ran to the bathroom and found she wasn’t there either.

With my heart racing, I left the room and ran down the hallway to Mr. Montrose’s room and knocked. There was no answer. I tried the door and it opened, then I went inside and saw it was empty.

Turning around I bolted out the door, and ran down to the front desk clerk. When I asked if he had seen my sister, he told me that Mr. Montrose had left earlier that morning and Elizabeth had went with him.

“Where did they go?” I cried out.

He only looked at me with pity and shook his head and said he was sorry.

I quickly ran out of the hotel and searched the entire town for Elizabeth. I questioned everyone. She was gone, missing, I was devastated. My little sister, whom I loved, my only living family member was gone.

I made a resolve then and there that I would find her again, and when I did, Alexander Pierre Montrose, would pay dearly for this. I found out his carriage had left town heading towards Gaul, France. I followed after them that same day, on a quest to find my sister and the man who took her from me.

TBC