Chapter: Three
Chapter Title: Constanze
Summary: Imagine if Les Miserables is set in the modern times and every character was living an ordinary life. Now imagine their lives with some amusing moments and my Les Mis characters that involves of pranks, jokes, the occasional quarrels and perhaps...a little bit of romance?
Author's Notes: Hello dear reader. I am so glad you are still reading, do forgive me for the delay, I have had many problems and also had writer's bloc all in one time so please, if you are still up for it, please read on.
Chapter Three: Constanze
Constanze woke up with a start, gasping for air, one hand reaching out for a nonexistent object while the other is clasping her throat and tears streaming down her face. She was breathing heavily as if she was being choked, she looked around before letting her hand fall down on her chest, the one clasping her neck was still there, her index finger slowly tracing a grotesque scar on it surrounded by many others. Carefully, she sat up and looked around, she sighed shakily, she brought her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.
"Y-you're still here Constanze...you're still here." she mumbled to herself, slowly rocking back and forth, hoping this action will soother her. It proved useless as the fear and pain was still in her heart.
Slowly, she got up and started walking outside her room before stopping and remembering that she was still wearing her tank top which is exposing her neck, shoulders and arms alongside the many scars on what used to be fair, smooth skin. She recoiled at the sight before rushing off to her closet to change into her usual clothes. A turtleneck covered with a long sleeved shirt, pants and knee-high or thigh-high boots, all in military colors. Nodding in approval, she went out to the living room and looked at the only clock in the house, 4:00 a.m., she woke up at 4:00 a.m. She still has time to spare for a quick drench...with her clothes on...
Turning around, she went to the bathroom and turned the shower on. She never bothered to have hot baths, she always preferred cold ones. They remind her of the lake she and her mother goes to ever since she was but a toddler, she smiled at the memory as the cold water fell on her, drenching her and her clothes. She closed her eyes, trying to bring back the memories of her childhood and slowly, short parts of them came to her.
She was just five when it all began. Her cousins on her father's side were coming over to visit for the weekend and she was just inside her room reading another fairytale, it was called Cinderella. Her cousins approached her and asked her if she'd like to see them sketch her and her mother and she nodded, they agreed and told her to go and get a fountain pen from her father's study. Despite her knowing it as off-limits, she really wanted a picture of her and her mother, she trusted anyone at that age. ANYONE. When she got in, she looked around and rushed to her father's desk. She began rummaging through one of the drawers looking for the pen when she heard footsteps going to the study, she froze and nervously looked up. There scowling at her was her father and behind him, smiling their triumphant smiles were her cousins. "And what, may I ask, are you doing here?" her father, Cadet/Major Gringoire le Croix, asked. His voice was dangerously low, his hands already clenched in fists and his eyes looked ready to kill. She backed away from him but his reflexes were fast and he grabbed her by the neck, he dragged her out to the kitchen and threw her against the wall, her head hitting it as she was thrown. "Tell me what you were doing in my study!" he yelled at her. "I-I was...I was..." she was frightened, he marched towards her and back-handed her, she could feel her cheek getting cut by her father's wedding ring. He gripped her by the shoulder and began shaking her violently. "You were what?! Tell me what you were doing or I "I-I was looking for a fountain pen to draw me and mamma with!" she confessed, tears already staining her pale face. She saw her father's expression change, a flicker of hope shone in her heart but was immediately extinguished when her father scowled at her and pulled her by the hair towards the door leading to the washroom. "Stay there." he hissed. Afraid to disobey her father's orders, she nodded. She saw him march towards the place where they keep the knives, she saw him pick out a carving knife, the one meant for slicing chickens and turkeys for thanksgiving. She saw him sharpen it, her eyes widened and immediately, she began trembling. "Please...please...no." she pleaded, her father paid no heed but waved his hand. "Stop moving, you spoiling my aim." he said disinterestedly. Trying to gather her courage up, she stood up straight, chin up, chest out, stomach in, arms planted firmly on both sides and fists clenched tightly...just like her mother told her. She saw her father plant one foot behind her and aim, she was afraid. She shut her eyes tight, hoping he would miss...but he never did. In just a few seconds she felt the knife flying past her neck, slashing it as it did so. She screamed, but that was not it, she felt her father give her a ringing slap, she staggered backward and fell on her back, her father's knee was pressing in on her chest giving her a hard time breathing, her father's hands were clasping her neck and her was choking her...her daddy was choking her...he hated her.
She heard knocking on the bathroom door, it was enough to bring her out of her stupor. She looked around and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was really drenched, she opened the door and saw her housemate, Angelique looking at her curiously.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Y-yeah...I'm fine." she mumbled pushing past her housemate.
When she got to her room, she changed again and decided to go out. It was a Saturday, best if she visited Therese. She needed some of that bartender's homemade hot chocolate...and some cheering up. After changing, she rushed out to her pick-up truck and drove off towards the bartender's bungalow, she brought along her book of Hans Christian Andersen fairytales for Therese's daughter to give the kid some entertainment. She smiled as she began thinking of new ways to entertain the toddler.
Author's Notes: I do hope you liked it dear reader, sad to say I don't like it...
