"I drink too much..."

Moscow, 1812

{Hélène's Journal} Three days. It's been three days. Oh, how I miss my dear Anatole. All I can do is sit around a drink, waiting and praying for him to come back. Our plan to ruin Natasha may have succeeded, but it also backfired because Anatole is gone. I wish to visit him in Petersburg. Maybe Balaga will take me. One night at the club and he'll take me for free. There is still hope. I believe in you my darling Anatole, I believe. 

Hélène was sitting in the drawing room writing, her elbow resting on the table. She stared off into the distance thinking about the last few days. She eventually stood up, closed her journal, and set her fur cloak on the dusty wood chair. She walked into her brother's bedroom and remember the good times they had. She pictured them laughing, drinking, and plotting Natasha's abduction. She longed to see him again. Hélène walked into Pierre's bedroom and was surprised to see him still in bed. He laid there peacefully while she quietly tip toed out and closed the door. She walked out into the courtyard and the gloomy sky matched her mood. Hélène missed her brother a lot. If only there was a way to see him without ruining the family name- again. She walked through the courtyard until she finally collapsed to the ground and weeped. Hélène weeped about Anatole, she weeped about Dolokhov, she weeped about Pierre. She cried for everyone, including herself. Hélène was tired of this life. Pierre was a lazy, smart, and an introvert- everything she was not. Every day she wondered why and how she married this man. Hélène longed to be with Dolokhov, whom she was "secretly" having an affair with. The two were both big drinkers and liked to have fun, whether it was in bed or on the dance floor in the club. They were destined to be together, but Pierre didn't believe it and kept Hélène to himself. She thought about how life with Pierre was like a prisoner's life. She felt like she was a slave of Pierre's love and couldn't escape. 

Hélène eventually pulled herself together and walked back inside. She walked through the cold house for hours, until Dolokhov showed up at the front door, Balaga close behind. She quickly checked to see if Pierre was still in the house, which he wasn't, then climbed into the "safety" of Balaga's troika. During the bumpy ride across town, Dolokhov and Hélène teased each other about the abduction and the Rostova family. They were ruined for good. Once the pair arrived at the club, the barely clothed Hélène gracefully stepped out of the troika, beaming as Dolokhov took her hand. The two walked inside the club and immediately ordered a few drinks. Hélène liked strong liquor and often had many shots, whereas Dolokhov liked to mix his drinks. 

After sitting and gossiping for a few hours with their peers, Dolokhov and Hélène stepped out onto the dance floor. He took her hand and they twirled the night away. They were dancing, singing, and drinking- some of Hélène's favorite things. This was the best night that she has had in a while. She was having so much fun with Dolokhov that the thought of Anatole slipped her mind. It wasn't until she was back in the troika that Hélène realized she'd been gone for many many hours. She couldn't wait to feel Pierre's wrath when she got home.

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wc; 588

welcome to my story! i just really love Hélène and thought it would be cool to imagine what she did after the comet passed. i will try to update this every week. love you guys- don't forget to leave a comment!