Hellfire On The Other Side

Chapter 1

"Do you know what today is?" Clara turned to her father who stood at her doorway. His cold blank stare made her skin form goosebumps. "Today has no importance." He responded obviously ignoring what his daughter was hinting at. Clara turned back to her window. Sitting in her reading nook that she made next to her balcony, she pulled her knees up to her chest. "How can you forget that this is the day mom..." Clara started but stopped remembering the rules. Don't mention her mom. She was the past and a past not to be revisited. "Judge Frollo! Gypsies are trying to escape the jail!" A guard interrupted the conversation. Frollo nodded and turned to leave. "Do not leave Clara, your curfew is in less than ten minutes, I expect you to be studying when I return." He said over his shoulder. "Of course sir," Clara responded. He left. The guard looked to her and gave a bow of his head "Miss Clara Frollo." Clara waved her hand and he left. Yep, she was the daughter of the one and only Judge Claude Frollo. And her mom? Who knew who she was. Being only five when Clara's mom sacrificed herself for Frollo to come back, Clara had very little memories of her. All her memories were being in this mansion being raised by her father, and being a villain, who she was met to be. If she wasn't in the mansion, she was at church or beside her father in the public to represent their power.  But that's only the day. In the night, she snuck out, she went to bars, she went running in the streets and she sometimes even went to the graveyard.

Checking the time, Clara gave a small smile. Going into her closet, she found her purple and black party dress. "Partying here I come!" Clara laughed. Grabbing her black booty heels she got dressed. Going to her bathroom connected to her room, she got some purple and black makeup and then styled her straight dark brown hair. It was a simple style, only braiding one small piece of hair. "Now this is what I call a party style." She says to herself giving a small twirl. Grabbing a small black pocketbook, she opened it and put her cheap flip phone in and pulled out a wallet-sized picture. It was her and a boy, black, with a purple jacket, his normal shirt, a necklace similar to what his father had, and his flat grey hat. He had his cane in his hand that showed his scar, slightly looking like a spade. Clara in the picture was rolling her eyes at his goatee. No one ever said she was nice. "Shane Facilier you better be in Paris tonight!" Clara muttered putting the picture in her purse. Grabbing a rope she hid under her bed, she went onto her balcony and tied to the rain. Then carefully, even with the heels and purse, she climbed down. "I'm getting good at this!" Clara said to herself. Making sure the coast was clear, she ran. She had placed to be.

Clara stared at the graveyard. Her mom was there, buried. The only thing telling her where she was, was a small rock, the only word carved in, "Sacrifice". Being five when Clara's mom sacrificed herself for her father, Clara couldn't remember her mom's name. Sighing, she looked towards the lake she stood next to. Her purple and black makeup really did match her purple and black outfit perfectly. She planned on getting slightly drunk tonight. She hated her mom's birthday. Meanwhile, a young man watched from the shadows, unbeknownst to Clara. He was quiet as a mouse as he observed the grieving.

Checking her flip phone, Clara checked the time. Giving a quick look around, she gave a small groan.  "If I'm going to get drunk, I need to leave soon. If father finds me gone..." Clara paused. She hated it when she talked to herself even though she couldn't help it. Putting her phone back in her pocketbook, she looked back to the graveyard. "Dang it, mom, why must I have memories of you?" "Be glad you even have memories of her," says a voice from the shadows. "I don't have any memories of my father. I was rarely around him. My mother didn't really want me to be influenced by his methods. I don't even know his name." Clara turned to the shadows that talked. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Now you show up! I've been waiting for twenty minutes! I was going to go to the bar without you! Now hurry up and come on! Free drinks on me!" Clara gave a small flip of her long hair. Emerging from the shadows with a smirk on his face, Shane says, "Aren't you a bit young to be drinking, Clara?" Rolling her eyes, Clara gave a small groan.  "As long as I'm a villain, I can do whatever or get whatever I want. And besides, who cares if I'm twenty-one or not. If I want to get drunk, I get drunk. I've been telling you, Shane, villains are better than heroes. Maybe it's time you listen to me for a change." Clara turned from the graveyard and started off towards the city where the bar was. Shane sighs and leans on a nearby tree. "The day I start listening to you is the day Ariel admits that she dyes her hair red to hide grey hairs. Besides, being a villain isn't for me," he says. Turning back to her friend, Clara says "You're a villain's son. How is being a villain not for you? You're more confusing than... I don't know, I lost my train of thought. But whatever. Alcohol! I want, I need! Let's go!" Shane rolled his eyes and sighs. "Fine. Wanna go the fast way?" "More than anything!" Clara went up to Shane. Her eyes showed eagerness. She liked alcohol way too much. By the time she is twenty-one, she could already be an addict at this rate. But she ignored that fact, being drunk was fun. "This girl is absolutely wild," Shane thought. "She'll learn to be good one day. I just know it." Shane grabs Clara's hand and says, "Brace yourself," as they slowly sink into the shadows.