Satine [ONGOING]

SATINE (VI)

Nor Satine, nor Florence could sleep a wink. They were both exhausted but as soon as they shut their eyes, blood stuck to their shoes, dust to their clothes and they heard the cries of children left behind by their parents, alone on the side of the road. It was impossible for Satine to get their wide innocent, pained eyes out of her mind. They both watched over the baby, the rise and fall of her ribs and the way her eyes were closed peacefully gave Satine some hope. At least she had someone to care for her at all times, at least she would have no memory of this. This young soul would soon be safe and sound in Servoz, far away from armies, from famine and thirst and all those unbearable things this terrible had forced her to witness. Satine watched with a fond smile at Florence's expression when she sneezed, when she made the slightest movement: a mix of unimaginable worry and adoration. It was still strange for her to come to terms with, but for Florence's sake she took a positive attitude. Her dear friend was beating herself up about the situation enough as it was. Satine certainly did not need to be one more judgmental figure to lecture her about responsibility, about something she had no experience with. Between a few drowsy thoughts, her mind drifted back to her small hometown. Was it really wise to go back? It had been the first place she thought of, but it was so unbelievably far away, more so in her mind than geographically. It would be an unbearable journey, even if they caught a train the next day. She pictured the white church and its carved out angels, the school with its elevated courtyard, accessible only by a few rocky steps, all encapsulated by tall rocky mountains with planes of grass stretching into the blue sky. She closed her eyes, imagining the cold breeze in her hair, her feet bare on the grass, healed from all its blisters, picking flowers by the river. The answer to her own question was yes, it was the right place to go, it really was a wise decision to make, until her father came into view, with his stern eye and his moustache, quickly followed by her mother, her arms crossed in disappointment. Their faces stared back at her in an accusatory manner, piercing through her eyes. She had done them wrong all of those years ago, she could admit that. Her fifteen year old self was not the wisest decision maker, but she didn't know if she could ever explain her thoughts to them, after all they had never made much of an effort to understand her. The terrible thought that they might not even want her, even in these terrific circumstances crossed her mind and made her shiver. Even more so now with her guests, one of whom she had a rather complicated relationship with, and the other obviously being an infant born outside of the bounds of marriage. She could imagine her mother's gasp and it made her physically sick, as if any of it had ever mattered. It was so stupid. She turned to Florence, not bearing to think of it any longer. She had already made her decision, it was made the second she stopped out of Paris. They had nowhere else to go. Her dear friend was clearly awake, though her eyes were closed just for the sake of it.

"Florence?" She whispered. "Florence, I didn't really say it earlier but, you can come with me, south east, to the Alps. I just thought I would make that clear in case you were wondering"
Her eyes slowly opened. "Are you sure?" The woman nodded. She needed her, she wanted company for the long road ahead, and she couldn't live with herself if she were to leave her alone without a friend in the world. Moreover, in some strange way, Florence was also a reminder of who Satine could be, a reminder of the person she had been back in Paris, Florence would prevent her from slipping back into the suffocating mentality that lurked in Servoz.

"I'm sure." Satine said whilst nodding before reaching for her hand. Their fingers intertwined, and much like she used to, Satine felt a strange warmth, a familiar feeling tingling in her fingertips at her touch. "Are you?"

Florence chuckled tiredly.

"I think I would be stupid to refuse your request, Satine Dumont."
"And I hope you're right about that, Florence Forestier." That was the last thing Satine remembered before she drifted to sleep despite the fear growing in the pit of her stomach and the worries hanging over her head. She awoke the next morning to a strangely familiar sound, somewhere in the distance, making its way in their direction as a march, pots and pans clattered, engines revved, and complained. the low strange cacophony of cries and shouts become clearer the closer they get. Another wave of travellers. Those that had not caught a train before. She stood up immediately, ignoring the sharp ache in each and every muscle in her body.