And This One's For You (Moulin Rouge)

7. Nightmare

Violet's POV:

Christian and I walk through the door of his apartment, walking in to the moonlit room, the curtain still drawn open. I let out a big yawn, the busyness of the day finale catching up to me. Christian looks over to me and laughs.

"You look exhausted." He says in between his laughter.

"Very charming Christian." I say sarcastically. Christian stops laughing immediately.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't meant to be rude" he becomes frantic with his words, panicking that he has upset me. I begin to start laughing now, unable to control myself.

"I'm just joking with you Christian. I got you so good!" Christian rolls his eyes, trying not to look amused, but his body gives in and he laughs once again. He walks over to the cabinets, taking out some bread from the bread bin and a jar of jam from one of the cupboards. Whilst he is preparing some jam on bread, I head to my bag, kneeling beside it to take out my nightie. I realise my hair all the pins I used to keep it together, and brush through any knots. I braid my air into a simple platt before untying the bow and undoing the buttons on my my dress.

"Don't turn around just yet Christian." I say to him as I begin to take my dress off.

"Of course, just let me know when you are finished." he says respectively. He keeps his back to me as I change into my nightie, folding my dress neatly and placing it back into my bag. There isn't a lot of room for my clothes to go and I presume that the wardrobe is full of Christian's clothes. My nightie is of a satin material, given to me from my mother after she died. It is a very light blue colour and falls daintily to my ankles. Before my father completely turned to drink, he almost threw all of mother's clothes away until I ran in into the room asking for me to keep them. He agreed reluctantly, but I had said to him that mother would be upset if her clothes were to be thrown away and gone to waste. She would have wanted me to have them so that I wouldn't need to find lots of money for new clothes.

"Thank you Christian." I say to the young gentleman with appreciation, who has kept his back to me the whole time so I could get dressed in peace. He turns back around with two plates in his hand and two glasses of milk sat beside him on the countertop. I walk over to him, taking one of the plates out his hands and picking up one of the glasses. We sit on the balcony, it is quite a warm evening, so we sit silently as we finish our evening meal. I admire the stars quietly, just enjoying the company of Christian without really speaking much. I watch as Christian pours a glass of whiskey into his glass once he has finished his milk. I look at the alcohol in the glass and immediately feel slightly unsettled. I try to hide my unease from Christian, not ready yet to speak about my troubled past. He takes a few sips before turning to face me.

"Would you like some?" he asks me, putting the glass closer to me in his hand. I wave my hand away, shooing the glass away from me.

"I don't drink" I say politely.

"A courtesan that doesn't drink?" he says with surprise. "I think you must be the first courtesan I have met that doesn't drink. How come?"

"The smell has never really appealed to me and I've always imagined it to taste horrid. I've seen a few people back in London drunk before and they become so careless and out of control that I would much rather stay sober and firmly put." I say, giving an answer believable enough so that he doesn't question me further. "I am ever so tired so I think I shall be off to bed." I say getting up from my chair on the balcony.

"I shall be in shortly. You go and rest your head. Goodnight Violet" his calm voice says back to me. I head inside, getting myself into Christian's very comfy bed. It doesn't take me very long once I close my eyes to drift off into a deep sleep.

***

"You fucken BITCH!" my father calls to me, hitting me across the face.

"You ungrateful BITCH!" my father shouts at me, throwing the glass jar which holds all my savings in at me, glass shattering into tiny pieces after coming into contact with the wall behind. A piece of glass piercing my skin.

"If you want to be a slut, then I'll show you what it is really like to be a slut!" my father grabs me, pushing me onto the bed. His eyes a piercing red colour, the veins popping out of his forehead.

"If you ever come back Violet, I will kill you! Do you hear me?!"

"It is your fault your mother is dead. You killed her!"

***

I wake up gasping for air, my lungs aching for oxygen. I find myself in a pool of sweat, tears streaming down my face. I cry out, my heart in agony from the pain I have suffered for many years. Christian wakes up frantically, his eyes searching me, confused as to what is going on. I try to calm down but the nightmare keeps me trapped in my pain and fear.

"Violet? Violet! What's going on?" Christian whispers, fear filling his eyes. He jumps off the bed, slipping over his shirt, to which he stumbles to the kitchen to get me a glass of water and a towel. I hear him rush back to me. I can't see much through the floods of tears that stream down my face. My throat begins to feel like it is closing up, feeling very dry and sore. Christian gets back onto the bed, dabbing the towel on my head to clear up some of the sweat. "Drink this, slowly" Christian orders me. I take the glass of water from his hands, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I place the glass to my lips and feel the cold, wet touch of the water slowly travel down my throat, relieving the sore pain caused by the dryness. I continue to weep through my sips of water, Christian caressing my back softly with his hand. I finish my water to which Christian takes it off me, putting it down on the floor on his side of the bed. I rub my eyes to try and clear my tears away, but they still fall on my cheeks.

"I-I...I'm sorry" I manage to say in between my cries. Christian wrap is arm around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. He holds me tightly, resting on the wall behind him, my head nuzzled into his chest. Christian cradles me, moving slowly from side to side.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't apologise. Just try to breathe, everything is going to be ok. I am here, I've got you." These words circle round and round in my head, words I never got from my father after my mother died. I try focusing on these soft words from Christian, allowing myself to feel ok in his arms. Christian repeats shushing sound, whispering them by my ear, sounding like ocean waves. I focus on it deeply, my eyes now becoming much heavier. I find it hard to keep them open, but I don't want to go back to sleep. I don't want to see my father once I close my eyes, who relive my suffering once again. But Christian's hold gives me a warmer feeling, making me feel safe in his arms. I feel a sense of security and safety.

I hear my mother's words whisper to me. "Shush my darling, everything will be alright." But what I think is my mother speaking to me in my head, is actually Christian whispering reassurances to me. The soothing sound and touch of Christian reminds me of my gentle mother. The happiness I once felt when she was alive. How every time I was unwell or sad, she would always make me feel better. Being here now in Christian's arms, feeling his gentle touch and hearing his soft whispers, gives me a feeling of home with my mother. It sheds a bit of light over my darkest times. A calming sensation that allows me to succumb to my tired, heavy eyes and allowing them to close, sending me back into a deep sleep.