THE MURDERESS
"I have to sleep with the Duke."
Satine's own stabbing words reverberated in her mind, over and over. Christian, poor Christian, did not understand that the idea of sleeping with another man was as painful to her as it was for him. She had been blessed in that for the short period of time in which preparations for the show overtook her schedule, that she was far too busy to see any clients. Zidler had waved off the pushy men inquiring about the fiery redhead, grumbling that she was currently "off the market!" And it was becoming increasingly clear that the Duke's affections for her were growing evermore, and had Zidler allowed her to continue seeing clients he would certainly revoke his contract. Meanwhile, she and Christian had fallen in love so flawlessly and easily, with no reminders of her jaded past life to drive them apart. She had never known such happiness – to devote her hours to her true passion of acting rather than selling her body, and being held in the gentle arms of a man who loved her, not the aggressive ones of men who did not even look her in the eye.
But now the Duke was growing impatient. No more flighty excuses of a busy schedule would suffice. After all, she'd barely spent any time with him, not even a respectable dinner! This infuriated the Duke, as he wanted to bestow splendid chivalry upon this beautiful creature – although she did not even deserve it! He knew he could just as well have thrown her down and had his way with her, and no one could object – but he was simply attempting to make a gentlemanly gesture! How dare she reject his offers! Well, no more. Tonight the supper was arranged. Tonight he would consummate his contract…in the respectable order of dinner first, of course.
Satine had spent the day watching the hours tick past, watching the sun grow tinged with an angry blood-red as it fell beneath the city. The day was not passing without a fight, the sun raged to remain in the sky for her – but it would inevitably lose. Night was wretchedly creeping upon her. Hunched over her battered vanity in a silken robe of long, stitched lilies, she would soon have to change into her dreaded evening gown – black and seductive; just his flavor and she knew it. She would have to wind her hair up off her neck, only for the Duke to yank it out in a passionate frenzy. She would powder her face and paint her lips ruby, only for that devil to smear it without notice as he uncontrollably ravaged her body. He would not be gentle, and she knew it. And it would be worse because she had made him wait all the longer.
She heaved a great sigh, contemplating her fate, contemplating the ramifications. Christian would be so heartbroken, so disappointed with her. His sad eyes would never look upon her with the innocence that they did, despite that he knew there had been countless men before him. She knew that he wished her to simply run off with him, oh the deliriously idealistic boy! That just could not be. The Duke would find them, and Christian would be killed, and she would suffer ten times the fury and wrath of the Duke. Christian simply did not understand how much power the Duke had in his name. No – there was no escaping her fate tonight. She would simply have to endure his hideous dinner, his sick foreplay. Then she would fall away from consciousness, close her eyes and pray that everything would end quickly. She would try to block out the nauseating sounds of the Duke's pleasure, and of his twisted maniacal whisperings into her ear. Yes, it would all pass and the deed would be done, and Christian would simply have to forgive her. He would, eventually…
These thoughts sickened her, and she felt faint. Satine could not believe herself. She had always been a strong woman with a thick skin. She had encountered scoundrels much worse than the Duke, who had abused her and treated her in the worst ways imaginable. And she had brushed the memories of those nights off with the passing day, relishing the jewels and money she had won. But her heart no longer yearned for diamonds and bills, now she only longed to be with her dear Christian. No amount of money, no fame the Duke could bring to her would mend the breaking of her heart now.
"I must accept it. I must be a big girl now," she scolded herself, noticing that the pale moon was now greeting the Parisians. The time was growing near. She thought wistfully of poor Christian, wallowing alone in his garret, lamenting the night away. She'd hoped he wouldn't take to Toulouse's warm-hearted attempts to solace him with abstinthe. He was a hopelessly depressive drunk…
Satine began to move mechanically about her room, disrobing herself and allowing the silken robe to fall on the floor in a beautiful shiny heap. The cooling evening air felt refreshing on her bare skin, her breasts free and her red curls tickling her lower back where they fell. How bittersweet the feeling of freedom was to her, for she would never be free. She began to reach that horrid dress – the black mess of lace and constricting seams. She frowned at the dress, for just looking at it reminded her of the Duke (she knew he would adore it).
She laughed bitterly, thinking aloud, "My funerary dress!" Yes, wearing this dress as she headed to the Gothic tower would resemble her own personal death march. The prelude to her funeral! The death of her freedom, her love, her soul. Why was she marching to her own death?
Then a thought struck her beautiful red head so suddenly and flashed in her mind so quickly she strained to catch it. Death. Was it between her death and his? If it were one or the other, would she be capable of committing such an unspeakable act?
"No, no… No, I couldn't…" Satine stammered, still awestruck by the thought. It was so appealing, yet so dangerous. If the Duke were eliminated, no one would spend an extraordinary amount of effort searching for a missing whore and a no-name writer. They could escape, and no one would care to find them. They could steal away to the countryside for a while, and dissolve into the quiet life and be married. They would send friendly letters to Toulouse and the others, and perhaps return after the dust had settled… Or maybe never at all! Who knows! Oh, what possibilities life could hold…
But no, no! It was all too preposterous. Satine was a stealthy and shrewd woman, but she could not conceive of taking a man's life… Or could she?
