A/N: This has been sitting on my hard drive since October. Because of NaNoWriMo, I hadn't worked on this, which could be the whole reason that I'm unhappy with the way it's written. Also, as a note, you should know that this is a totally different Satine than the one I'm used to writing, the one in my Passing Glimmers, which hasn't been updated in forever. Oops. There is a slight mention of abuse and rape in this one, hence the reason for an R rating. If it disturbs you, I'm sorry. Nothing I can do about it.
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz. The song "Oh Father" belongs to Madonna.
Oh Father
Her feet slapped noisily on the damp ground, keeping pace with the falling rain. A mass of crimson curls flew wildly about her face, damp with a mixture of tears and rainwater. She buried her face in her hands as she ran, trying to block out the stares aimed at her. She ran blindly, not caring where she ended up. All she wanted was to get away from the nightmare and to find salvation.
It's funny that way, you can get used
To the tears and the pain
What a child will believe
You never loved me.
Angry memories flashed through her mind, each one as hurtful as a thorn pricking her skin. A cry escaped her throat as she fell on the slippery cobblestones. She whimpered as her leg scraped against the stones, the white flesh tearing. She quickly tore off a strip of material from her dress and died it around her cut to stop the bleeding. Then, glancing nervously over her shoulder, she took of running again.
She heard an angry voice calling her name and started running harder, thrashing frantically against the oncoming rain. She covered her ears, trying to block out the angry screams ringing in her head.
"No, no, no." she muttered. "Go away - far away. Leave me alone!"
Frantic sobs rose in her throat and she stumbled, a harsh metal gate banging into her knees. She scurried over the gate, finding herself in a graveyard. Uncaring, she hid behind the closest grave. Huddled behind the cold marble slab she rocked herself back and forth, waiting uncertainly for the sound of running feet and the screams that would accompany them.
You can't hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can't make me cry, you once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.
Tense, she dared to peek out from behind the grave. Her blurred vision, a combination of tears and rain, saw only blacks, blues, and greys. She was alone. Finally.
She angrily wiped away her tears with the tattered sleeve of her dress. Unconsciously, she rubbed her upper arm, rolling up her dress sleeve. She gently prodded one of her many bruises and winced. She had grown immune to the pain of the beatings, just as she'd grown immune to the nights her father or one of his friends took her to their bed. It was the memory of it that hurt her; the memories that she tried desperately to erase, but were forever stuck there.
Night after night the blows came and she would cower in the corner, wishing it all away. There had been a time where she had been happy. Where her father hadn't hit her, and where her mother was still alive. But those days had slipped through her fingers, shattering on the cold, hard ground. The wind had whisked them away, just as it had whisked all her hope away.
Seems like yesterday
I lay down next to your boots and I prayed
For your anger to end
A sob escaped her throat and she pushed herself away from the grave angrily. She rubbed her arms to keep warm and started to walk along the rows of graves, searching for something she had lost long ago. It had been ten long, lonely years. She had been seven then, carefree and full of joy. How could she have known then that her life would turn out to be a living hell?
She walked in silence until she came upon her mother's grave. She fell to the earth, lying there miserable and uncaring. She felt the tears welling up again, and didn't even care enough to stop them from spilling.
"How could you have left me like this?" she cried, agonized. She pulled her tattered cloak closer around her, trying to shield out the world. She beat against the ground, crying furiously.
"I hate him!" she yelled, sobbing into the uncaring earth. "The bastard! I hate him!"
Oh Father I have sinned
As she cried, her memories came flooding back.
She was fourteen years old in the memory, and had just realized that ugly, scrawny young girl she had once been was slowly turning into a beautiful crimson haired vixen. A friend's mother had given her a new dress for her birthday and she had put it on excitedly. She was twirling in front of the old broken mirror in her room when the door had slammed open, revealing the angry and drunken silhouette of her father. She had cringed and started to slide away to hide under her bed.
Her father had grabbed her arm before she could escape and pulled her to him roughly. She had squealed in terror and tried to squirm away. Her actions resulted in a sharp slap across the face. Wincing, she closed her eyes, waiting for more blows to come. Instead, she felt herself being dragged away, out of her room and down the halls.
Her terrified screams still echoed in her ears.
Oh Father, you never wanted to live that way
You never wanted to hurt me
Why am I running away?
Sniffling, she looked back up at her mother's grave and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She tried to gather herself together and she forced herself to stand on a pair of unsteady legs. She brushed a stray curl out of her face and held up her head defiantly. He was probably waiting for her to come crawling back, like she always did. Well, she wouldn't. Not this time.
She smiled, despite the pain she was feeling. She was finally away from him. For good.
She stumbled towards the gate, wincing as the iron gate beat against her injured leg. She hobbled off into the darkness and the rain, not knowing where she was going, and not really caring either. She walked on in silence, with only the raindrops to keep her company.
A bright neon light flashed in the distance, and she squinted, trying to find where it had come from. She walked slowly towards it, a feeling of slight excitement washing over her. She paused as she came upon and a large gate, and slowly a smile broke out over her bruised lips.
Maybe someday
When I look back I'll be able to say
You didn't mean to be cruel
Somebody hurt you too
She pushed open the gate and boldly walked inside. She let go of the shabby cloak, hearing the soft thud as the soaked material fell against the ground. Holding her head up high, she wiped the last of her tears and made her way towards her future. She had left the shattered pieces of her life with her mother's grave, and taking her newly born freedom, she flew eagerly towards the life radiating from the windmill.
She had escaped the darkness and was at last entering the light.
You can't hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can't make me cry, you once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz. The song "Oh Father" belongs to Madonna.
Her feet slapped noisily on the damp ground, keeping pace with the falling rain. A mass of crimson curls flew wildly about her face, damp with a mixture of tears and rainwater. She buried her face in her hands as she ran, trying to block out the stares aimed at her. She ran blindly, not caring where she ended up. All she wanted was to get away from the nightmare and to find salvation.
It's funny that way, you can get used
To the tears and the pain
What a child will believe
You never loved me.
Angry memories flashed through her mind, each one as hurtful as a thorn pricking her skin. A cry escaped her throat as she fell on the slippery cobblestones. She whimpered as her leg scraped against the stones, the white flesh tearing. She quickly tore off a strip of material from her dress and died it around her cut to stop the bleeding. Then, glancing nervously over her shoulder, she took of running again.
She heard an angry voice calling her name and started running harder, thrashing frantically against the oncoming rain. She covered her ears, trying to block out the angry screams ringing in her head.
"No, no, no." she muttered. "Go away - far away. Leave me alone!"
Frantic sobs rose in her throat and she stumbled, a harsh metal gate banging into her knees. She scurried over the gate, finding herself in a graveyard. Uncaring, she hid behind the closest grave. Huddled behind the cold marble slab she rocked herself back and forth, waiting uncertainly for the sound of running feet and the screams that would accompany them.
You can't hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can't make me cry, you once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.
Tense, she dared to peek out from behind the grave. Her blurred vision, a combination of tears and rain, saw only blacks, blues, and greys. She was alone. Finally.
She angrily wiped away her tears with the tattered sleeve of her dress. Unconsciously, she rubbed her upper arm, rolling up her dress sleeve. She gently prodded one of her many bruises and winced. She had grown immune to the pain of the beatings, just as she'd grown immune to the nights her father or one of his friends took her to their bed. It was the memory of it that hurt her; the memories that she tried desperately to erase, but were forever stuck there.
Night after night the blows came and she would cower in the corner, wishing it all away. There had been a time where she had been happy. Where her father hadn't hit her, and where her mother was still alive. But those days had slipped through her fingers, shattering on the cold, hard ground. The wind had whisked them away, just as it had whisked all her hope away.
Seems like yesterday
I lay down next to your boots and I prayed
For your anger to end
A sob escaped her throat and she pushed herself away from the grave angrily. She rubbed her arms to keep warm and started to walk along the rows of graves, searching for something she had lost long ago. It had been ten long, lonely years. She had been seven then, carefree and full of joy. How could she have known then that her life would turn out to be a living hell?
She walked in silence until she came upon her mother's grave. She fell to the earth, lying there miserable and uncaring. She felt the tears welling up again, and didn't even care enough to stop them from spilling.
"How could you have left me like this?" she cried, agonized. She pulled her tattered cloak closer around her, trying to shield out the world. She beat against the ground, crying furiously.
"I hate him!" she yelled, sobbing into the uncaring earth. "The bastard! I hate him!"
Oh Father I have sinned
As she cried, her memories came flooding back.
She was fourteen years old in the memory, and had just realized that ugly, scrawny young girl she had once been was slowly turning into a beautiful crimson haired vixen. A friend's mother had given her a new dress for her birthday and she had put it on excitedly. She was twirling in front of the old broken mirror in her room when the door had slammed open, revealing the angry and drunken silhouette of her father. She had cringed and started to slide away to hide under her bed.
Her father had grabbed her arm before she could escape and pulled her to him roughly. She had squealed in terror and tried to squirm away. Her actions resulted in a sharp slap across the face. Wincing, she closed her eyes, waiting for more blows to come. Instead, she felt herself being dragged away, out of her room and down the halls.
Her terrified screams still echoed in her ears.
Oh Father, you never wanted to live that way
You never wanted to hurt me
Why am I running away?
Sniffling, she looked back up at her mother's grave and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She tried to gather herself together and she forced herself to stand on a pair of unsteady legs. She brushed a stray curl out of her face and held up her head defiantly. He was probably waiting for her to come crawling back, like she always did. Well, she wouldn't. Not this time.
She smiled, despite the pain she was feeling. She was finally away from him. For good.
She stumbled towards the gate, wincing as the iron gate beat against her injured leg. She hobbled off into the darkness and the rain, not knowing where she was going, and not really caring either. She walked on in silence, with only the raindrops to keep her company.
A bright neon light flashed in the distance, and she squinted, trying to find where it had come from. She walked slowly towards it, a feeling of slight excitement washing over her. She paused as she came upon and a large gate, and slowly a smile broke out over her bruised lips.
Maybe someday
When I look back I'll be able to say
You didn't mean to be cruel
Somebody hurt you too
She pushed open the gate and boldly walked inside. She let go of the shabby cloak, hearing the soft thud as the soaked material fell against the ground. Holding her head up high, she wiped the last of her tears and made her way towards her future. She had left the shattered pieces of her life with her mother's grave, and taking her newly born freedom, she flew eagerly towards the life radiating from the windmill.
She had escaped the darkness and was at last entering the light.
You can't hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can't make me cry, you once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.