Chapter Sept
Satine felt a chill run up her spine when she saw the man in the doorway. The man's voice was sending ice through the air, but his appearance was what was frightening her. He had small, black eyes and gray hair that showed signs of being blonde once. His nose was crooked, as though it had been broken, and his back was curved into a small hump. The darkness of this man made Satine want to jump up from her chair and run away from the house as quickly as she could.
Christian must have sensed her anxiety, for her took her hand underneath the table again and squeezed it.
"Who's that??" The man asked, his words making more chills attack Satine. She shivered, but only Christian seemed to notice.
"This is a friend of mine, father. Satine Bertram. She's staying with us for a while," Christian said, his chin raised up in defiance. Satine could tell that the relationship between father and son was not a good one.
"She looks like a prostitute! Why, in God's name, is there a whore in my household??" Mr. James bellowed. Elizabeth gasped, as did Satine.
"Thomas!!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"Answer my question, boy!" Thomas hollered at Christian.
Christian gently let go of Satine's hand and stood, walking over to his father in the doorway.
"Go to hell, father," He said, loud enough for the others in the room to hear.
Satine gasped, not because he had cursed, but because he was standing up for her.
"Did you hear that Elizabeth?? Your wonderful, extraordinarily talented son is cursing at his own father! What have you got to say about that, hmm??"
Elizabeth stood and walked to stand beside Christian, "I'd say you taught him those words, so it's your fault."
Thomas glared at his wife and said, loudly enough so that Satine could hear, to Christian, " You're lucky your mother is here to protect you. The second she's gone, you and that whore are out of my house!"
After his father had stormed out of the dining room, dinner had gone back to normal…at least to some degree. It was absolutely silent, save the sound of forks hitting against plates. Christian wanted to ask Satine if she was all right, but breaking the silence probably wouldn't have been for the best.
When the final course was cleared away, Christian rose from his chair and walked to his study.
He had to write. He felt as though he was going insane! He had Satine to worry about, which was not a bad thing because he had feelings for her, but to throw his father into the mix! Only disaster could come from the combination.
He sat at his typewriter and stared at the keys that were dusty and dull from years of use.
"Alright, Christian. You wanted to write, so write!" He said to himself, a chuckle rising from his throat.
Talking to himself proved that he had flipped his lid.
He went back to gazing at the keys and, finally, he loaded in a piece of paper into the machine.
Now what could he write about??
He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the house. His mother and father were yelling down the hall. Ryan was painting, judging by the lack of sound coming from his room across the hall.
Neither of the two would make good poems.
Then he heard it…the voice of an angel floating through the hallway outside. He knew what to write about.
"How wonderful life is now you're in the world," He sang.
"You can't leave," She whispered to herself as she walked up the stairs after dinner had ended. Feeling tears, she did what she always did when she was emotional: she sang.
"I follow the night
Can't stand the light
When will I begin to live again?
One day I'll fly away!
Leave all this to yesterday...
What more could your love do for me?
When will love be through with me?
Why live life from dream to dream
And dread the day when dreaming ends?"
She sighed, knowing that the song had been written for her. It had been made to mock her…so the entire world would know that her life had no meaning. That she was a failure!
"How wonderful life is now you're in the world."
Her brow furrowed, wondering where the other source of singing had come from. She pushed her lips together, hoping that the owner of the voice would sing again.
"Never knew I could feel like this."
The voice was coming from the room at the top of the staircase. She walked quickly to the door, and, in listening, heard the sound of keys clicking down.
She knocked on the door. Christian answered it only moments after she had knocked.
"W…were you singing just now?" She asked, her voice not cooperating with her brain. Why did she always do this around him?
"Maybe, why?" He asked, his eyed glittering. He was holding back laughter!
"I…just…well…I was walking by and heard singing. If it was you… well…you have a wonderful voice."
He smiled and took her hand, leading her into his study.
Books upon books lined the walls of the room and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Old couched and chairs were placed beside a large window. In the middle of the room was a table, and on it was a typewriter, which had a sheet of paper loaded in it.
"I was writing a song…or a poem. I'm not quite sure which one its going to be yet," He laughed and plopped himself down on one of the couches.
Satine wasn't really listening to him. She was too busy looking around the room. There was an entire table covered in thick piles of papers, all of them covered in type or in handwriting.
"Did you write all of those?" She asked, tearing her eyes from the table to look at Christian.
"Um…yeah…I did," Christian replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Would it be alright if I read something of yours?" She asked, turning her gaze to the large window.
"Um…I…I guess," He stuttered, rising from the couch and walking to the table. Satine watched nervously as he ruffled through the large stacks of paper. Finally, he withdrew a thick manuscript.
"Here…um…it's the first thing I wrote when I got my typewriter. That was…" He looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to find an answer, "When I was eleven."
She took the manuscript and looked down at the title page:
Children Of The Revolution
By Christian James
"Thank you," She said taking a step closer to him.
She didn't mean to get as close as she did. But before she knew it, she felt his chest rising and falling against hers. She breathed deeply and took in the smell of coffee and earth. Christian's hand tipped her chin up so that her eyes were gazing into his. She fell into the dark, gray silk pools and he smiled.
Seconds later, she had pressed her lips to his, indulging in the warmth that the connection gave her.
Christian pulled away before either had the chance to deepen the kiss.
"We shouldn't," He said breathlessly, stroking her cheek.
"Oh…yes, of course. You're right," She said, stepping backwards so she was out of his arms.
"No, Satine! It's not…"
"You don't need to explain, Christian. I understand…I'm sorry I kissed you," She turned to leave but Christian's hand gripped her arm and spun her around.
"Satine, it's not that I don't want to. God, if I didn't know what the consequences could be, I'd let this go on all evening. But that's the thing…there are consequences. My father is right down the hall. If he walked in…" Satine turned away, refusing to look at him. She heard him groan and then he spun her around again. With no hesitation at all, he took her lips. Satine moaned quietly into his mouth, loving the feeling he was giving her. They didn't part until the voice of Thomas James filled the room.
"And I thought my son would be smart enough to leave the house before fooling around with his whore."
