"Never!" Belle yelled pulling her body away from Gaston. He had bribed her to marry him in the respect of saving her father. She felt her shoulders being directed towards the monster before her. Her lips felt the pressure of Gaston's against her own and she flinched on reflex, slapping his face. Gaston's hand flew up in a rush to retaliate but decided otherwise.
"Fine! Have it your way," he said storming past her. "Take the old man away!" Monsieur D'Arque nodded, a vulgar look on his face, and tore Maurice towards him.
"Let go of me!" Maurice hollered struggling for freedom. "Belle!" Belle sank to her knees at her father's cries for help. "Belle!"
"I'm sorry Papa," Belle whimpered covering her face unable to look at her father being thrown into the loony cart. Tears made splotches of black on the dirt road before her as two feet appeared in her view. She looked up to see the demented face of Monsieur D'Arque.
"Fear not Belle. We'll take good care of your– ahem– father," his mouth twisted into a brainsick grin, one eye brow arched as his finger tips pressed delicately together. He turned on his heels, kicking up dirt, his cape flowing behind him. All the while you could hear the cries of Maurice in his desperate attempts for rescue.
Monsieur D'Arque pushed himself up into the driver's seat of the cart and jolted the horses into motion. It was a three minute ride to the asylum by horse and D'Arque couldn't be more pleased for a new client.
Maurice struggled to hold back tears as the cart picked up speed. He huddled up in the corner of the box and awaited his new prison. He had heard stories about The Maison Des Lunes and none of them were cheerful. He wasn't crazy and he would have to endure the sick nature of Monsieur D'Arque nonetheless. His Heart almost stopped when the cart descended in speed.
"Belle," Maurice said softly longing for his daughter. He buried his head in his arms and let the tears fall from his eyes. He heard voices from the outside of the carriage and strained to listen.
"We have a new arrival Achille," Maurice heard the voice of Monsieur D'Arque explain.
"Yes, sir," said the voice of a very hammered soul. Maurice's head jerked up from his arms as the doors were opened. The voice of Achille matched well with his appearance. Thinner than bone, he stood clad in raggish clothing hanging from his body in flaps. His black hair was sheen-less and matted curtaining his hollowed cheeks. Maurice almost willingly let himself be dragged from his mobile prison. He was forced to his knees as he felt an extra pair of hands clamp irons around his wrists. Being too discouraged his face remained on the ground at the extra touch.
"Come on Gervais," Achille said hulling Maurice to his feet. Maurice looked around at the one called Gervais and saw a man larger than an ox with blonde shaggy hair. He easily guided Maurice, a small man, up the stairs and into the asylum. The inside was worse than any rumor he had encountered. It was large and grey with a cold lonely feel to it. In the distance a chilling shriek could be heard but other than that, forced silence. Silence with the will to obey. Maurice was lead down a hall and into a room with chains on a bed and on the wall. There was a small wooden desk in the far corner with a tattered chair to match. He was forced to his knees again only this time it was on hard stone. The old man winced at the contact. His head was pressed to the floor as well so that his back formed a bridge over his knees.
"Hang in there Maurice," Gervais said reassuringly unlocking the cuffs around his wrists. His voice was deep and comforting with a thick French accent and Maurice couldn't help but relax a little until D'Arque entered the room to everyone's surprise.
"Gervais!" D'Arque said sharply. "How many times must I prompt your memory about speaking with new inmates?" The shuffle of D'Arque's movement was apparent at the whimper of Gervais.
"(1)Je suis maître désolé," Gervais said looking down at the ground in fear. D'Arque had to be about three feet shorter than Gervais and yet the larger man moved with a tremor.
"Speak English, you fool! How do you plan to learn English if you don't speak it regularly?" D'Arque snapped walking briskly past him. "You will wait for me in the office. Is that understood?" D'Arque's finger tips were once again touching delicately as his mind hatched disturbed plans.
"(2)Oui maître," Gervais said turning slowly. D'Arque accelerated towards Gervais and smacked him across the face.
"Since you seem to be immune to instruction in English I will pound it into in French! (3)Vous ne parlerez jamais anglais–" He hit Gervais with a riding crop that appeared out of generally no where. Most likely hidden under his cape (which he hadn't removed yet). "(4)En ma présence!" Whack! "(5)Si vous!" Whack! "(6)j'assurerai vous êtes punis!" Whack! "(7)Me comprenez-vous maintenant, Gervais?"
Maurice risked a glance from his uncomfortable position and saw Gervais crouched down on his knee his shirt ripped from the force of the blows. Maurice looked away in quaking fear at what may happen to him after Monsieur D'Arque was finished with his current victim.
"Do you understand me now? Or do you need more explaining?"
"No, Master D'Arque," Gervais said terror in his voice. At that he hurriedly shut the door and was gone. Maurice listened for a click of a lock but none was heard. He swallowed hard and watched D'Arque's feet move in front of him. Clammy hands grasped his chin and forced his gaze up. Maurice looked into the face of Leandre D'Arque and could barely maintain calmness before he fluttered his eyes closed in insecurity. D'Arque gave a laugh and threw Maurice's face down.
"Yes, Maurice, you'll be very happy here," he said clasping his hands behind his back. "But now we ought to get down to business," He moved to the small desk on the far side of the room and took out a clip board and a quill. He dipped the writing device in an ink well and poised to write. "So Maurice, tell me. When did you start having these delusions?"
Maurice had already been asked this question and was humiliated. He would remain silent. Better to keep his dignity than sur come to the mad man before him.
"I asked you a question!" D'Arque said through clenched teeth roughly grabbing Maurice's face again. He lowered his own gaze to meet Maurice's and eerily spoke. "I'm going to cut to the main point with you Maurice," he breathed his face close to Maurice's. His breath smelled of must and alcohol with a feel like steam; warm and moist to the touch. "There is no cure for a broken mind, a dangerous mind. You'll be here for quite some time and you best make an effort to cooperate. It will make your stay a lot more— pleasant. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Maurice?" Maurice swallowed and nodded helplessly. "Good man." D'Arque said throwing his face down again and walking back over to his desk.
Maurice glared at the floor in defeat and felt the tears well up again. He needed Belle; to be with her. It wasn't right for a father to be parted from his daughter for so long. The tears ran down his nose and dropped on the floor. Maurice tried to stay quiet in fear of D'Arque but it didn't prevail.
"Ah, you're weeping," D'Arque said rising from his chair an excited look on his face. His finger tips went to his cloak and undid the clasp letting it tumble down around him. His finger tips found each other again as he slowly walked to Maurice. "Why do you weep Maurice?" He asked. "Speak!" Maurice sniffed and took in a shaky breath.
"My daughter, Monsieur," he said sadly unable to meet the gaze of D'Arque.
"What of your daughter?"
"I'll never see her again," he wept. "It isn't right for her to continue to grow without a father."
"She is of age , Maurice. She is— No longer your concern," D'Arque said mystically letting it down hard that Belle didn't, in fact, need her father.
"I am not crazy!" Maurice hollered out of no where (more to himself than anything) jumping to his feet in a speed that didn't seem fit for an old man. D'Arque laughed and turned away from Maurice.
"Of course you're not," D'Arque said patronizingly. "However I advise you to take a seat before I see it necessary to get physical."
"I will not take my seat for I am not insane!"
"Maurice– Maurice the first step to recovery is to admit your problem. My job is to locate the problem. Denying yourself will get you no further in your recovery."
"Your job? Your job?! Do you know what people say about your job?! You're feared by everyone! No! Looked down upon by everyone! There isn't one person in this town that doesn't know that you have no clue as to what you're doing! You think it's a secret that you're a sadistic mad man? Well it isn't you— Monster! Everyone knows that half the people you bring in here aren't crazy. That you just drive them that way," Maurice was frantic now. His breath was coming in short and sweat had formed on his forehead. He could feel the perspiration drenching his underarms as he swallowed hard and pointed his eyes at the floor in anticipation as what was to happen. D'Arque had stood back, his finger tips touching, as if he had heard this monologue over one thousand times.
"Since you are new around here, Maurice, I will cut you a break. Rest assure, never let that happen again. The next time I am insulted like that you will beg for forgiveness," D'Arque said silkily. Maurice couldn't believe this. He was really in the Maison Des Lunes. He was committed and he wasn't getting out until his 'treatment' was complete. . .
Maurice darted for the door, which he observed before was not locked, and turned the knob. It wound around and then the door flew open. He ran out and turned right towards the exit. There were many bleak people that he passed that seemed too dead to do anything about his escape. Most likely inmates themselves. As he saw the door that lead to the outside exit a lanky young man appeared out of the left hallway. Then he heard the sound of D'Arque's voice.
"(8)L'arrêter Eloi! Le saisir!" D'Arque shouted running after Maurice. The lanky man called Eloi stepped behind Maurice seconds after he had tried the door and found it to be locked. The man's grasp was iron and claw like. Maurice could feel the nails of the man running through the fabric in his shirt. D'Arque approached the two in a short breathed manner. " He was trying for the exit," D'Arque breathed leaning on his knees for support.
"Ah," Eloi said looking down at Maurice, his grip still on the old man.
"What were you thinking?" D'Arque asked grabbing the scruff of Maurice's shirt and shaking him violently. Eloi had stepped back and had grasped his hands in front of his body watching Maurice being bullied by the asylum owner. "You're more than I can bear!" He spat throwing Maurice to the floor. D'Arque straightened up and stared at Eloi. "Allow me to introduce to you, my son, Eloi D'Arque," He gestured his son forward at his introduction. Eloi came forward into the light at his father's bidding and Maurice saw they were very alike in appearance.
Both were tall and thin with the same identical, gnarled-like hands. Their noses were both long and pointed with sharp, hollowed cheeks that gave them the look of being the walking dead. The clothes that Eloi was sporting was a slender wine-red suit with golden clasps and faded black boots. His colored garments looked indubitably elaborate next to the black cloth of his father.
"My son assists me in numerous treatment plans and has proven quite useful in his seven-teen years of life. I'm glad you two got to meet so quickly into your stay here Maurice," D'Arque said glaring daggers at the old man. He was angry that Maurice had made an attempt to escape. He had made a fool of his new tyrant and he would face the coincidences.
"Would I have the pleasure of meeting said son's beloved mother?" Maurice asked darkly still having his seat on the floor. Eloi looked at his father for a response.
"Eloi?"
"Yes, father?" He asked almost as if he was eggar to do his father's will.
"You will go fetch your mother. Then you will bring her back here, is that understood?" D'Arque asked not taking his eyes off of Maurice.
"Yes, father," Eloi said as he swooped in the opposite direction walking in the same stiff yet jittery manner his father did. D'Arque's gaze had switched from Maurice to his retreating son. After he was fully departed D'Arque fell back to Maurice. He picked the man up and slammed him against the door.
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again I will see to it that you are beaten on the spot! Do you understand me? On the spot! I will not be made a fool of in my own sanctuary! Especially by a fool with delusions of a ten foot monster!" D'Arque said dangerously pressing Maurice's body against the door with more and more pressure as he spoke. Maurice was now wincing in pain and working for breath. D'Arque let him fall and Maurice crumbled to a ball at his feet. " You will learn Maurice," he said wiping a small speck of saliva off the corner of his own lip.
"Father?" Eloi said to announce his presence. Eloi was accompanied, indeed, by a woman. She had blonde hair that was messily thrown up in a loop. Her emerald dress limped around her small frame in wilting beauty. Her face was done up in make-up to hide the scars and lack of color. However her eyes were full of emptiness. As if she had been dead for a long time.
"Ah, Frederique," D'Arque said holding out his hand. Frederique took his hand as if trained to do so. "This is my wife, Frederique."
"Pleased to meet you," Frederique said monotonously holding out her hand to Maurice without really looking at him. Maurice stood up off the ground and grasped the girl's frail hand; cold as ice.
"This is my latest patient, Maurice. He should be with us for some time," D'Arque said grinning nastily at Maurice. The look alone made Maurice want to crumple to the floor in defeat. However his legs remained posted to the ground. "Eloi take your mother back to her room," he then turned to his wife. "I will meet you in my bedchamber," he said fingering her chin and planting a lingering kiss on her lips. He wasn't supposed to see, but Maurice caught a glimpse of D'Arque fingering his wife in between her legs as he kissed her seeming harmlessly. Maurice looked away and jutted his head back to remove the hair from his eyes. D'Arque watched as his son lead his wife away.
"You will follow me," D'Arque said crooking a finger at Maurice. Maurice slowly began to trudge forward until D'Arque was behind him, guiding him through the asylum. "This is your new home, Maurice," D'Arque announced as he stopped at a room with the scripture AXC on it.
Maurice was shoved inside followed closely by D'Arque. The man before him was so frightening Maurice backed up with every step D'Arque took closer to him until he was sitting on a bed. D'Arque went past the bed and to a small cabinet. He took a mouth cover from it and an amber bottle. He poured some liquid into the cover and then came to Maurice.
"Now, this won't hurt you a bit my good man," D'Arque said rounding on Maurice. By some unknown power D'Arque had placed the cover over his prisoner's mouth and Maurice was taking deep breaths from the fumes being admitted from the liquid.
Maurice's limbs began to feel heavy and his eyes began to flutter closed. He was barely aware of D'Arque taking the mask off him and begin fondling his arms. He felt tight bounds being wound and clamped around his wrists and ankles but that liquid was working on him and he couldn't move a muscle.
"There, now. You'll not be going anywhere tonight," D'Arque said proudly looking at the tightly strapped inmate before him. Maurice opened his eyes to see everything in a blur. He heard the door open then a familiar voice ring out.
"Papa!" Belle shouted running to her helpless father. D'Arque flung an arm out and stayed her travel. "Let go of me– Papa!" She yelled fighting to get past the insane man. "What have you done to him?!" Belled shrieked looking as Maurice's eyes bloomed shut and the color in his skin visibly drain.
"He had to be sedated for his own safety, " D'Arque said, a small cackle in his throat. As Monsieur D'Arque talked Belle fought past him and was kneeling at her father's side.
"Papa, it's me. It's Belle. Wake-up Papa, its Belle," She said in a desperate attempt to wake him up. All Maurice could muster was a tilt of his head. Belle buried her head in her father's strapped hand and bawled. D'Arque peered at her as if she were inhuman. "Why did you sedate him? You know he's not crazy!" Belle yelled staring death at Monsieur D'Arque.
"He made an escape attempt and he is unsafe for public interaction. Your father is delusional," D'Arque said his fingertips coming together in demented glee.
"That's a lie!" Belle said standing. "I can prove my father's not hallucinating!— And I will!" Belle turned back to her father and kissed his forehead. "I'll come back for you, papa," she whispered. She gave her father one last look and ran out of the room. She would bring the beast down here herself if she had to. And she would have to. . .
Foot Notes:
1. I'm sorry master
2. Yes master
3. You will never speak English
4. In my presence!
5. If you do
6. I will ensure you are punished!
7. Do you understand Gervais?
8. Stop him Eloi! Grab him!
A/N: This is my first B&B fic so I'm hoping everyone likes it. You know the drill. Click on the purple button and tell me what you think.