He'll always be there singing songs in my head…
The doctor is back again. That squat, horrid, little man who likes to poke and prod behind my eyes. He wants to see into my head. But it's not seeing. It's hearing. They think I'm overwrought. They think I'm mad. I keep telling them, it's not seeing. They won't find anything inside my head. It's my ears, my ears they've got to look into!
I see him, that doctor, Monsieur Lévesque, talking to Raoul. Raoul is shaking his head, looking up at my window, his hand clutching his cane and twisting the head of it 'round and 'round. I'm hidden behind the curtain so he doesn't see me.
Thirteen months and twelve days since I first arrived here and still they have not fixed me. It is because they are poking around in my head. They are trying to figure out why I sing the Dies Irae in my sleep. They are trying to understand why I recite verses from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam instead of prayer. They are trying to learn the cause of my nightmares, visions of men hanging from iron trees, my body devoured by scorpions, my soul washed away in flood.
But never once have they listened.
Not to me. Not to him.
They are afraid, yet they do not know Fear. They have not looked Fear in his face, they have not tasted Fear's lips, they have not stared into Fear's burning eyes. They are afraid all the same. Afraid He is real. Afraid He will take their mind prisoner has He has taken mine.
Cowards, the lot of them. Messieurs Firmin and André, Carlotta, Piangi, Buquet. Even my husband. Abandoning me to the asylum when I would not agree to a London holiday, would not agree to children, would not agree to physical union, so long as Fear stalked our lives.
They are coming closer now. I don't know how long my rumination has lasted, long enough for them to walk inside from the garden, to stand at my cell and gawk in at me through the window. He'll touch me. My skin is crawling at the thought.
But I'm surprised. Raoul enters first, without the doctor. His touch is often a comfort. It calms me. It clears me. It quiets the singing.
"Darling, Christine, how are you today?"
"Hold my hand."
He places one hand under and the other over my left hand. I am free. I sigh, grateful, then rest my head on his shoulder.
"I am much the same as always."
"I thought as much. The doctor is worried you aren't making any progress Lottie. I confess that I've come to the same conclusion."
I want to clench his hands tightly in my own, beg him to take me home with him, please, God, don't let him leave me here! I am alone with my thoughts and that is dangerous. They don't seem to understand this, no matter how often I tell them. I refrain from any action, though my heart hammers against my ribs painfully.
"I think you should come home."
Home. Can he mean it?
"Truly? Raoul, you've no idea how much it would mean to me. I would give anything to come home. To try to start our life together." I feel a cloud pass over my face and I look behind me out the window. The sun is hidden from view and I shudder at the rain clouds oppressing it.
"Anything? Are you ready to begin our life as it should have been, before this mess?"
I look back to my lap. I cannot guarantee anything. The moment he lets go of my hand I might lose all reason; I have no reason to believe I won't.
"Raoul, I can try. That is all I can promise. I want to… You don't know how badly I want to put it all behind me."
He pats my hand. Thunder rolls behind us.
"That is all I can ask for Lotte. If not… Well, we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. The doctor does think it best you have someone to watch over you though, so we'll be bringing a nurse along. I'm sure it will be temporary though." He looks me in the eye for the first time since he arrived. "Yes, I'm sure of it."
He pats my hand and then stands up, my hands falling from his grasp and into my lap.
I struggle against the music.
I stand up and follow him out of the door, leaving the cell behind me without a backward glance.
The words come into my head, unbidden. I push them away.
He signs some papers, introduces me to someone, I curtsy.
I touch a hand to my forehead, feigning a headache.
It's the nurse that he's introduced me to. She helps me out the door and he helps me into the waiting carriage.
"Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?"
I press my hands to my ears but immediately lower them. Raoul hasn't noticed. Another roll of thunder.
"Quem patronum rogaturus,"
The countryside is a wet blur and it makes me dizzy. The nurse and Raoul are talking. They don't see me.
"Cum vix iustus sit secures?"
I decide now, I won't mention it. No matter what I will not mention it. Everything will be all right. Lightning streaks and I smile at Raoul, praying that it is not as brittle as the rest of me.