To:
The Sugarfaerie: Hey, sorry for not updating for so long! I've been busy with exams and stuff. I really don't know what to say about my new chapter, (sorry about it being a short one too), except that it's a turning point in the story.
Satines POV:
I was looking through everything in possible seizure distance within my view. Whilst there weren't a lot of places to search through, my plan of starting vertically down the first set of drawers proved that the contexts beyond the brass latch of the dull hued storages were much more than what was meant by appearance.
I was stunned the moment the drawer glided silently out of its shelter. It ghosted out until an awkward pause stopped it dead, which I found incredibly disturbing, as if something inside it is taking refuge there and does not want to be seen. When I peeked in, however, it turned out to be deeper than I'd have thought.
Besides fancy objects that were placed neatly into a peculiar order that seemed to stand out in the first column of drawers, as if they were once treasured by a young girl instead of a rich and snobbish duke, there were also queer objects contained in the furthest corner, where one wouldn't notice had it not been for my thoroughness. Those such as little candles that have not been lit yet, with dusts curving up its intricate spiral wax figure, were laid and piled up into a little mountain which nearly collapsed when I opened the drawer. I quickly reached out my other hand to steady them, only to find out another fancy figure next to it. Since I'd have a lot of time to spend and the drug is stirring its way well into the duke's stomach, I gave up to my curiosity and drew it out.
It was a little angel, with flaming red hair; such of reviving sparks in a pot of burnt ashes. But that was only its profile. I turned it around in my hand to discover a pale face, with a pair of beautiful eyes staring idly at me from a serene whirlpool of the clearest cerulean blue I have ever seen. Sparkles danced underneath its lazy, half-closed lashes when I turned it in different angles. The observation left me with a new finding, for this figure captivated me the instant I stared into its face. Why, it is almost a copy of me! I turned it sideways again and pulled it further to examine it. Except for the waist-length hair and its memorable imprint of the eyes that is a slight shade darker than mine, there are no other differences that I could tell. I don't recall me ever having a slight dimple on my cheek when I smiled, but now, however bizarre this sounds, it seems like I did.
Unable to fathom a proper supposition as to how the duke kept such a doll or as to why, I gently tucked it back to where it belonged. Shutting my eyes as I shoved the drawer back into its dark hollow, I told myself to get back on track instead of losing myself in unimportant objects. The glittering eyes seemed to tear through the drawer and lavish an oddly calm air around the room, which slowed me down considerably.
I quickly went through all of the drawers, all of them filled with things I haven't expected to be found in this sort of place. When I finally came upon something that held my interest, it was already late into the night.
It was in a drawer just like the others, except that within it there had been parchments. Rolls of thin parchments, probably one piece in each scroll, filed neatly in a row before me as I quietly inspected. I reached out my hand and found my fingers cold and sweaty, as I groped for one of them.
As I spread out the parchment on the floor, slowly and with extra care not to wrinkle its edges, a beautiful, cursive writing appeared. I read along the writings and found it to be rather formal. So much as the following I absorbed as my muscled tensed with each line I go down.
…that, in other words, would bind future actress, Satine, to Duke Cyrille, shall the contract be complete.
I was nearing half the page when I realized that I haven't been able to take even one word in. It sounded like contract. It is a contract. A contract with me in the middle of all this. Knowing it all along that I was to be wooed by the Duke and should be happy for such opportunity to turn into a real actress was one thing, but watching it all unfold into solid words that hammers my future into such fragile paper made me wince.
…The deeds of the Moulin Rouge shall be transferred as for required security means to Duke Cyrille…
I glanced towards the bottom right of the scroll, where the names were signed. One was by Zidler, the other one indicating the same brat that lay on bed with unknown drugs dissolving into him. It suddenly felt absurdly painful to see Zidler's name come into this contract, like he's selling me out as if I'm a product, which, in some way, I am. I have always respected him deep down, though on the outside it only appears to be that we're always having fun with our own little entertainment. Shows, shows, always the shows. My world would be incomplete without the shows, but I don't really like the feeling of someone favoring the shows over me, even if it's beneficial for the both of us. Not to mention that it was someone whom I'd be willing to call my papa. We both gain and lose something in such contracts, but I felt drained rather than enriched in every way.
…in order to transform the Moulin Rouge into an all modern theater…
There were some lines underneath still, but I couldn't be bothered to read on. For me, the contract ended then and there. On the point, right on target--to transform the Moulin Rouge into a beautiful theater. Isn't that what we've always dreamt of? I thought of Christian and of his smile. His beautiful smile that lit up my hopes when I was down, that broke my heart when he said he believed me and promised to never get jealous. I took out a little something from the flap underneath my thin piece of clothing. A matchbox. A matchbox with lots of beautiful matches that'll enable me to brighten up my life a little bit. I didn't want to care about much, but, if one had to take away the only little something I want and not expect revenge, then he or she will be wrong. And this point is about to be made clear in a minute. I'll make it very, very clear.
One can also do really crazy things when one has nothing to lose.
In other words, I am to burn the contract, the mansion, and maybe spare the duke by drowning him in his bathtub first. Maybe I'll--
"So, very well prepared, I guess?" a voice growled from behind me. A chill ran up and down my spine several times before I had the guts to turn around and face whoever it was.
As unbelievable as it may seem, it was the duke's face that I saw. Clutching the scroll of contract with my chilled fingers, I knew there would be no need to explain. I did not plan on one, either. I just perched there, on the ground, staring at him and him at me, with a match in my other hand, threatening to fall onto the floor any time. I wanted to stand, but it seems like I cannot control my movements anymore. The duke's face turned into a terrifying shade of red and his eyes bulged, as he continued to glare at the courtesan who betrayed her most loyal customer. I did not make a sound during the whole minute that this stalemate progressed. If it could even be called a stalemate at all. I could hardly breathe underneath his glower.
"WARNER!" he barked suddenly. I jumped and teetered on my toes, until my legs gave way and I ended up crashing into the wall behind me. I panted and tried to look for a way out, which seemed pointless when there was only one obvious outlet out of the room, and the manservant is actually charging through it.
Hearing his master's call, the duke's manservant, Warner, strode ever speedily down the aisle and barged into the chamber. I gasped as he drew out a gun and pointed it directly in my face.
"YOU…YOU WHORE!" the duke yelled at me, his accusing finger pointing at me, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY THINGS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! YOU BLOODY, BLOODY WHORE! YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE UP TO, INVITING ME AT SUCH A SUSPICIOUS TIME? WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? HUH?" He huffed and he puffed those words as Warner continued to keep me still by the glistening revolver. And then, "DRAG HER DOWN TO THE DUNGEONS!" marked the ending of the scene.
I shivered. The dungeons? Oh, how foolish of me! Of course this isn't an ordinary mansion! It's inhabited by the cruelest person on earth! I grazed my teeth and shot him daggers, annoyed at the fact that I did not bring a dagger to kill him earlier instead. I have no idea what he's going to do to me, though nothing could be worse than a tough bullet into the head. I wondered what has gotten me into this situation, and came up with the conclusion that it was the sole existence of Christian that brought me step by step, into both ecstasy in heaven and this living hell. At that moment, the urge to shout out and get back at the monster in front of me in the most original form of communication finally exploded within me.
"DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO WITH ME, YOU COWARD! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE LOVED OR EVEN LOVE IN ANY WAY, YOU SELF-CENTERED, SELFISH BRAT! YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE A WHORE! EVEN I AM BETTER OFF BEING A WHORE THAN YOU BEING A STUPID, BRUTAL AND BRAINLESS DUKE FOR A HUNDRED--" I shouted at the top of my lungs, my whole body shaking with rage, until a loud din sounded and a bullet crashed its way into the ceiling right above me. I whimpered on the inside, and hated myself for that. But no matter what, or how bad the rest of this is going to get, I swear to myself that I will not shed even one drop of tear, at least not in front of anyone.
I felt my senses go numb as I am dragged across the cold marble floor and into the dark, descending stairs that led to a cold, wet dungeon. I thought of struggling, to bite his hands and thrash around like a ten-year-old, in hope that he would let go of his iron grasp. He didn't. The manservant followed the duke's orders like a dog would to his master, and I thought about yelling that out for him to hear too, until I saw his fingers, clutching the revolvers trigger once more. I fell into a silent trance, imagining Christian at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to shove me into his arms and fly us way up high, into the Milky Way, where no one would give a damn.
My temporary daydream was shattered by the loud clang of a metal door frame, with a hollow hum that echoed through the dark, as we came to an abrupt stop in front of a dark cell, way below ground level. I was thrown in with a merciless force, almost enough to break my spines as I fell upon the protruding stones from underneath. The last bit of light faded away as the manservant marched away after locking up the little gate, leaving me in total darkness amongst the cold drip-drops of icy trickles down my bare, frosty toes.
A/N: So, Satine has gone a little rougher than usual, and she thinks it's gonna be worth it! Let's pray that it stays that way, cause i still have some troubles deciding whether to let it end happy or sad, or both at the same time. I still think this chapter is a bit odd in every which way i look at it. I hope you guys can tell me what you think. There are always enough room for you to leave your precious comments every now and then just to make this story better, and I'd like to thank you beforehand for just reading this chappy too! Love ya--peace out!
