And This One's For You (Moulin Rouge)

2. England

It is now the year 1901. Just a young English girl hoping to move away. In small area of London where the houses are all so close together, and the cobbled streets are so bumpy and narrow. Poverty has been increasing dramatically through the back streets of London. The death of Queen Victoria has caused chaos and uproar, everything has become unsettled and disturbed. I have never experienced wealth or class. I'm just a girl who was brought into this world by a loving mother and father who were very poor, but they didn't care because they had each other, they then had me, and they had love. When I was just a small toddler, discovering the wonders of the world around me- because even the bad things in life seem so wonderful in the eyes of a young child- I had the most happiest of lives. I remember going to the nearby market with my mother and father, me on my father's shoulders with my mother mother walking beside us. I remember my mother reading me fairytale stories when I would go to bed or if I was feeling unwell she would lay me on her lap in a rocking chair placed at the corner of the room, and she would rock me and sing to me until I fell asleep. My father worked, trying to bring in as much money as he could to give me the best childhood. I remember playing with all the other young children in the streets when I was 5.

But one day everything changed. I came home from playing outside with the other children feeling slightly unwell. I remember my father had just come home from work and was sitting in his armchair, cleaning his shoes. My mother walked over to me, happy to see me home. She pulled me into a tight hug but she quickly pulled away, her eyes searching my body. 

"My gosh Violet, you're scorching." she said as she put the back of her hand against my head, then my chest. "John! Something is wrong with Violet!" My mother called out to my father. He threw his shoes on the floor and ran over to me and my mother. He repeated what my mother did, checking my temperature with the back of his hand on my head and my chest. My parents spoke to each other before my father picked me up in his arms and began to ran outside with my mother following. He ran us to the local doctors, carrying me in calling out to a doctor to see me immediately. 

I don't remember much about the doctors, because my temperature burned so high that I must've passed out. But I had contracted tuberculosis from another child, a friend that I hadn't seen for a few days. I remember my parents taking me home, their faces full of worry. I remember my mother, as usual, lay me upon her lap and sang to me with her beautiful angelic voice until I fell asleep. She patted a wet flannel on my head to try and cool my temperature down and would rub water on my lips to try and keep me hydrated. 

A few days passed and my mother didn't leave my side, always taking extra special care of me. I remember one morning I woke up feeling much better than the previous days. It was the first morning I had woken up in a while without having to almost cough up a lung. I ran to my mother and father in the living room to shout that I had felt all better. But my father was the only one up. He was kneeling against the sink with his hands, his head bowed down over the sink. I remember calling to him, pulling him in to a hug and saying that I felt all better. He knelt down beside me, our eyes now level with each others. His face was all red and puffy, his eyes were all watery. 

"Your mother is sick, Violet. The doctor came this morning to make mommy all better, but she is very unwell." I remember him saying to me. 

"Can I go and see her?" I remember asking sadly. I wanted my mother so badly, to tell her that I was almost all better. My father was about to speak when my mother called from their room, her voice sounding so weak and croaky. 

"Please John! It is ok...let me see my darling Violet."

My father took my hand and led me to my mother who lay in her bed, water dripping down from her head and her hair all soaked. A small bucket lay beside her on the floor, with red liquid at the bottom- what I now know was blood. I remember starting to cry which my mother tried to grab me. My father picked me up and placed me on the bed beside my mother, she felt so hot. My mother cradled me in her weak arms. I sang softly the song she would always sing to me when I was unwell to which she smiled lovingly at me. She kissed me head before whispering into my ear.