-1"Keep your bravery Madame, for they will surely strip you of everything else"
This phrase seemed to echo through cramped corners of Christine's already fragile skull. Pounding its way like a strange incantation sent to either curse her or endow her with some celestial gift. She has lived by those words everyday, so much that she can still smell the faint wood of the carriage and hear the horses slowly galloping over the rocky roadway. In the beginning, Christine took these words as some scare tactic, a jest the doctors used to make you trust them, and open your heart into their analytical ears. She was naïve; again, in her life she had been a naïve fool and had not relied on the good advice of those around her. Had she become so mistrusting in her years? Maybe a certain demonic saint had rubbed his musk onto her soul, branding her as an obvious outsider.
They did strip her, in the figurative and literal since, the first thing Christine felt upon entering the doors of Paris' highly praised mental asylum was the cold, yet clammy hands of a rather burly female nurse, who stripped Christine of her fine cotton, and her dignity. Not knowing of the consequences, she struggled, kicked, screamed, and pleaded until her throat tore, and blood leaked its way from the corner of her mouth. Poor Christine, did not know of the guards of hell, and how the tears of angels were usually a mockery among their lively discussions, for is she did, maybe, she would have known about the favorite past time of the hellions.
It is like a game, filling its players with a sense of impish glee that would make the most cold-hearted man in the world cringe. The victims, or participants, are like the mice at the hands of cruel children with nothing better to do. Being backed into an inescapable corner your put face to face with the horror that you are at the mercy of these fiendish ghouls, a plaything. Except, wouldn't you ponder that the worse punishment would be to humiliate you? Kick maybe even burn the flesh that keeps you living. No, these people do no such thing, they do something worse…they ignore you. Shackled to a large expanse of graying white walls, next to you is someone so far away from reality, they urinate themselves in a large puddle next to you, you can plead with your heart for them to move you, but they just walk by, as if only a rather uninteresting painting were hanging there.
This was exactly the predicament Christine was being placed in, shackled to a wall with the random gibberish and shouting of the mentally unstable. Her hands grew sweaty, and she glanced from left to right searching for any salvation that may lead her away from here. And, for one second, a door opened, letting in such a bright shade of light that she thought heaven had opened up especially for her, to take her home. God aims to punish those who have sinned in his eyes, and though she sang like the angels, she has fallen and therefore was not worth saving. Therefore, Christine was punished, with the giggling voices of the rich and the deep tenors of their mates, who emptied their pockets to gawk at the sight of her insanity. The bright smiles they wore only increased when the soft tears gave away to hysterics and Christine could not be discerned from the rest of the drooling patients who clawed at themselves in an attempt of an unreachable freedom. She had broken, her sacred mantra fluttering into the air above her, no longer a main priority. Christine clawed at her own wrists, and bit into them, anything if only to unshackle herself from the wall. Blood streamed forth, coating her chains in a glossy red coat, and pouring its way down her skin. Through all of this, she could hear the comments that the rich had given themselves permission to throw at her.
"She is a lively one, isn't she dear….."
"My, she reminds me of the savages in the east……"
"Oh!, look at how she bites herself, like some wild animal in the forest.."
"Please!, this thing is no human, if she wishes to act like an animal, then she shall be treated like one!"
"She is a terror, isn't she?"
"A true monster…….."
It was this last moment, which seemed to spark a sudden intrigue into Christine. A monster…, not human… a terror? All words that she has heard spoken and has spoken herself, but to hear others speaking them at her at her, was a new reality. Was she not the conqueror of the monsters that lurked in the dark, did she not face, what she thought, was the ultimate evil and come out whole and pure in the end? Did she? Maybe, she was not as pure as she thought, maybe a darkness that she had not known about had inched its way into her soul slowly turning into a murky gray, and finally, the infamous black.
One final question seemed to turn her into a living statue, the only evidence of life being the shallow breaths that could be heard if you listen closely. Did she care? Her life had taken a tragic downfall, leading her into imprisonment by the hands of the man she was suppose to love. She had been lying to herself for the past years, by feigning that she could not be happier living in seclusion, and abandoning her opera career to raise a family with Raoul. She has not sang in months and doubts she could hit the high notes that she use to. She has lived a hollow life, magnificent from an outsiders point of view, yet missing the sustenance that should makes waking up every morning something to look forward to. Had she become a version of the Phantom of the Opera? Living behind masks that would make her more pleasing to the outside world, yet hiding her true self from their prying eyes. She had come to fear the scrutinization of those around her and hiding away from the prying questions that begged to be release from the high class gossiper's lips. A female phantom! the thought sent a rack of giggles through Christine's form that seemed more like mini seizures from the onlookers point of view.
"Girl! Have you become possessed or have you finally lost your mind?"
"I had one to lose??" , Christine choked out through her hysterical fit of laughter, which induced a domino effect until all the patients were giggling through chapped lips at some unseen joke lingering in the air. The nurse meerly rolled her eyes and glared at the little wench who dared to make a mockery out of her. Who was she, a mere crazy without the good common sense to survive in this world, to joke with her. She was below her, she had no right to even feel comfortable speaking to her without a quiver of fear in her voice.
"What is your name?"
"They call me Little Lotte!"
Another round of giggles seemed to burst forth from the group who found this conversation to be the funniest thin they ghave seen since old Philipe Marchons jumped out of the window when the invisible crows decided they wanted to peck his eyes out.
"Little Lotte, hmmm?, well Lotte do you know what happens when you upset a nurse or another one of your betters? You get to have quiet time all by yourself, why don't you all tell Lotte about quiet time?"
At that statement the whole room silenced, and the patients glance nervously among themselves, each willing the other to speak so they would not have to.
"Cosette!!, you have been in their quite a number of times have you not? explain to Lotte how she should keep that tongue of hers silenced so as not to face such a cruel punishment!"
Christine took in the sight of this girl named Cosette. She was a blonde, though her hair was a brownish color and slightly ratty from a couple of unwashings. Dirt and other substances clung to her face like a second skin, giving her an almost wild appearance, as if she had lived most of her life among the animals in the forests among France then in the towns of people. She was petite and held a set of heavy lidded Grey eyes that made her seem tired and dreary of life. A slightly pointed nose and thin lips gave her a regal disposition that accentuated the high cheekbones she was endowed with. If they had met in a different setting, and time, Christne would have thought her a lovely girl cooming from high society to mingle with the other aritocratic families. But here, this place seemed to place a clammy dampness upon her skin, makiing it appear as if she was always in a cold sweat. The feral look she gave Christine perfected the picture of a savage ready to pounce whether you came in peace or war. It wasn't until her raspy voice rang in Christine's head did she look up from her observations. This girls voice was like rust, it made what would have been a soft soprano creak at the high pitches in her voice and rasp at the lows.
"It is basically torture, Branks they call them, if it is not the humiliation of wearing a donkey's face upon yours then it is the gag that will get you. To bring shame upon us, to make us seem barely human, they take joy in using the devices that most resemble the animals of low society. The Ass, the Pig, sometimes rats, basing what you wear on what they felt you would have been if you were born an animal. The ass, if they find your stupidity amusing, percieving you as slow compared to them and untalented when compared to the rest of society. The pig, when smells start to flow from your body until the rest of the group can smell you within a five foot distance, which they accomplish by diminishing the amount of baths you get in the month. The rats, are the lowest, if they give you a rat to wear, then you might as well forget about living at all. The rat means that you've reached the final stage, where you are no longer treated or seen as a human. They feed you your food from off the floor, and force you to walk on your hands and knees withing their prescence. Some patients don't know which is worse, the humiliation of the masks, or being shackled to these walls while they walk by and not let you use a bucket to release yourself in. Either way as little bit of your humanity is stripped away, and in the end, can you really be called human anymore?"
A.N. - Sorry its been taking me so long to update, school has been taking up most of my time right now. But i'll try to lengthen the chapters since my updated are coming further apart.