Satine [ONGOING]

SATINE (XI)

Satine realised in that moment that she couldn't stomach the sight of guns anymore. A wave of anxiety washed over her, her vision blurred and the incessant sound of artillery raining down around her crept back up into the forefront of her mind. It was always there, somewhere beneath the surface, visible only when she closed her eyes, or in the quiet of nature as she had walked up the arduous alpine hills, tired and feverish, but then it had only been an echo which she could suppress, now it came back with full force. Her hand instinctively reached for Florence's. Their clammy fingers intertwined. She held on so tight that she could feel her friend's pulse quickening, as if she held the very beat of it in her hands. Marie-lise dragged them both behind her, and Ernest straightened his posture subtly.
"Bonjour, monsieur." Said one of the soldiers, his accent was mild, but stood out like a sore thumb given the circumstances.
"Bonjour," Ernest said stiffly, though Satine could hear a hint of hesitation in his voice."How can I help you?" he cleared his throat, both Florence and Satine held their breath, staring with wide eyes much like wounded animals.
"We're here to keep a record of all the inhabitants of the village monsieur, some of my soldiers are also in search of a house to stay in, you understand?"
Satine could see that her father was particularly taken aback by the latter information but he nodded.
"Yes of course."
"I assume you own this house, Monsieur."

He nodded. "I do."

Satine couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, she wanted to rationalise this fear so badly, but no matter how hard she tried, the sound of gunshots resonated within the walls of her skull.

"I need the names of all those who reside here, and I also need to search the premises." He took a step inside. Ernest still prevented him from going further than the doormat.

"Why search the premises?"

"To see if this house is adequate for our troops sir."

Marie-Lise suddenly stiffened, her eyes narrowing visibly. "But we live here-"
Ernest didn't let her finish, placing a hand by her mouth. For the first time in years, Satine saw pure terror flash across her father's face. The couple shared a telling silence, holding eye contact, and even Satine understood it: they had to cooperate. Just as she was lost in thought the soldier took yet another step inside, his grey eyes fell upon Satine, and they felt heavy, judgmental, a bit too observant. A smug smile spread across his face as he lifted a hand to graze her cheek, the young woman felt she would be sick, he still clutched his gun with one hand.

"Is this your daughter, monsieur?" He asked, barely looking back at Ernest. Marie-Lise froze watching this strange interaction, biting her lip. "Pretty, very pretty." The soldier mused, a few of the other soldiers let out some near sadistic chuckles. All Satine could do was tighten her grasp on her friend's hand. For a while, it felt as if the entire room was holding its breath, until the soldier's eyes snapped off of Satine, alleviating her from his almost hungry gaze.

"And who might you and the baby be?" He asked, his eyebrows raised unnaturally high.

"I'm just a family friend-"
"We just came back from Paris–" Satine completed, only for Florence to continue, a whole exchange that seemed strangely reminiscent of improvisation on the stage. No contradiction, not a space between the next piece of information conveyed to the audience: a german soldier/

"We used to work there–"

"But now with a baby–"

"It's been difficult." Florence completed, and the truth and weight of the words caused them to sink as deep as possible, anchoring in Satine's mind.

"She's mine." Satine finally affirmed, and somehow saying those words to a stranger cemented the lie even further than it already was woven in. She shot a quick glance at her friend to study her reaction, but she seemed stoic, perhaps because the soldier was watching, or because she remembered the events of yesterday evening just as vividly as Satine. However she said nothing more, letting silence take a significant space between them. The soldier seemed mildly amused by their quick fire display of information, but not in a genuine way, there was this very condescending manner in which he gazed at them both.