It was 11 am of the next day and Christian was upon waking. Everything appeared fuzzy to his eyes and he couldn't quite make out what was frontways or sideways of him. His window was open and the chirping of birds outside gave Christian a sort of pleasant feeling. It could be that perhaps everytime he heard the sound of singing birds, he was reminded of Satine. She had wanted to leave the Moulin Rouge so badly, to just pack up and fly away like a sparrow. Outside it looked to be another beautiful day, but no matter what, no fair weather could ever make Christian content.
He scanned his room for a sweater, but upon doing so came to a hault. "Wait." he thought. "How?... What...what am I doing here?" he pondered in confusion. Becoming slightly nervous Christian tried to recount what took place the night before. "Oh, yeah,... that." he said aloud. He was starting to remember. He had gotten severely drunk off Absynthe and had passed out in the street. He recalled having a dream of Satine and waking up in his bed shortly thereafter. The question was however, how did he end up from lying in the streets to back here in his apartment room?
Christian thought about this for a moment or two more, but stopped once again when he realized that his room had been tidied of all empty liquor bottles, and that the once loose pages of his story were now neatly placed in a pile on his desk. Not only that, but his dirty clothes had been washed, folded, and layed delicately atop his dresser. Panic started to become of him at this moment, and Christian cluelessly searched for an answer to this mystery. His answer however, didn't take long.
"Hello." said a soft voice from the doorway. Christian swirved around defensively.
"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU BLOODY WANT?" shrieked Christian. He backed away to the other side of his bed and grabbed for aweapon of some sort; anything that would scare away this unwanted intruder.
"Now please sir, I am only here to help." said the girl ever so innocently.
"Well that's pretty damn alright, but WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME?" he yelled. Rage flowed through his veins, andcould clearly be visible through his pulsing blue green eyes. "Please leave... now." he grumbled.
"Yes sir, I will. But please,... please just don't yell at me again sir." she whimpered.
Christian watched as the girl carefully turned around to grab for the door. He walked around to the front of the bed and continued to hold a dull blade out before him. He refused to let his guard down, even to a young girl. She couldn't have been older then 14 or 15, however, she didn't belong here. Nobody belonged here.
The girl slipped out behind the door and shut it with a quick slam. Christian stood in pure disbelief. Not because a strange girl had uninvitedly made her way into his home, or even because she had messed with his belongings, but because of the way he had treated her. He had acted very much like an immature and stubburn teen himself.
He listened for the clinking of her feet down the stairs and to the dry sidewalks outside. A last minute curiosity struck him, and Christian rushed to his window to watch as the nameless young girl ran away down the street towards the abandoned remains of the Moulin Rouge.