Jordan.. Final

I lay dazed, weakened by the liquid spreading through my veins. 

My mind detached from my body. 

No sensation, just thought. 

Thoughts of Christian, near yet so far. 

I heard the cheer, as the audience I had yearned to impress erupted into applause. 

Audience members, row by row realised I was not to wake. 

Harold, entered my blurred vision. Harold, who like a father I adored. Helping me to escape the horror my life had become. 

I had visited Harold the night before the finale when my nightmares became my reality. 

The Duke, driven by selfishness, power and wealth. 

The man who funded my shows planned to take me this night away from the Moulin Rouge. 

"Harold! Harold! I cried, bursting into Harolds office, tears streaming down my face, my corset, torn by the Dukes wandering hands. I had run from the Dukes quarters and found myself in the sanctuary of Harold's office. 

Harold, his face illuminated by the fire warm and welcoming. He turned, his gaze meeting my distraught stare. Leaping from his chair, he wrapped his arms around me, an act that usually brought comfort.

"Satine, my dear! Whatever is the matter?" 

"Harold, I have needed to talk to you for some time. Pausing, I tried to regain clarity. 

"You must help me Harold, I have just escaped the Duke. He plans to take me away from the Moulin Rouge after the finale of 'Spectacular, Spectacular'. 

"Harold he cannot have me, we must do something. Tell me you can prevent this Harold. If not, then you must call my resolution wise to solve my own issues presently. I would rather die if I cannot find remedy!”. 

Harold shocked, listening to me speak of death with such ease and unrestraint. 

"Harold I am in love with Christian and he in love with me!”. 

The mention of Christian's name made my heart flutter. 

“We have been seeing each other for some months now, I have to be with him Harold!. To love and be loved in return” I said quoting 'Spectacular, Spectacular' a sell-out, the finale tomorrow night. 

"I will not leave with the Duke”. Fresh tears falling from my eyes, my handkerchief twisted between my fingers. 

Harold watched his beloved Satine. 

He had raised her as his own and he was torn by the agony that is love. 

Harold's mind wandered. He had watched Christian discover the Moulin Rouge, oblivious to the sin beneath its soul. As he was of Christians love affair with Satine. 

Harold eyes lifted to his trinket box, sparkling on the mantlepiece. 

"I have just the thing" Harold said. Lifting the lid of the trinket box he produced a small bottle of liquor kept for a case of life or death. 

"Satine, my dear, I give you this, not because I want you to take it, but because I fear what will become of you if I do not." 

"You must drink this liquid, tomorrow night. If it is death you seek, let it be whilst 'Spectacular, Spectacular is being performed”.

The liquid shall seep through your veins and halt your pulse. 

Harold his shaking hand caressed the side of my face. 

"Your beautiful cheeks will drain of rosy red and death will appear to be upon you. You will sleep for two and one half hours. I will pronounce you dead”.

Harold looked for an ounce of doubt and found none.

"You will wake from a pleasant sleep, whilst the audience mourns your loss. You can be with your beloved Christian, escaping without return”. 

Sobs came at the mention of not returning home. 

"Sleep now my beauty, I must write a letter telling Christian of our plan." 

By seven o clock the next night, I was ready for my grand finale. 

The Duke watched with excitement what was to be 'his Satines' last performance. 

Christian having received Harold's letter was fraught with events to come. 

Could our trust be placed in a bottle of liquid? 

Backstage I drank the liquid. One final thought of Christian. 

"Lets crash this sea-weary ship into the rocks" I whispered pressing the bottle to my blood red lips. I allowed the liquid to flow. 

The drums of the final song matching my racing heartbeat - I entered for the final curtain call. 

I collapsed. 

The poison had entered my bloodstream. 

Harold had not lied, the venom worked quickly. 

The audience gasped, hands clasped over their mouths. My lifeless body before them. 

The Duke, fuming his power over me dwindling, facing the prospect of having to reimburse his audience. 

Harold ran to me. Fellow actors standing in their places, surveying the scene before them. 

Harold wiping the perspiration from my forehead, retrieving the bottle and putting it in his pocket. "Spectacular, Spectacular", he muttered, turning his head to the blank faced audience.

"She's gone" he said quietly. 

Surrounded by actors Harold knew he had to convince them of his grief. 

Pronouncing me dead, he gently kissed my cheek. Warm lips to cold skin. 

Harold carried me home, having instructed Christian to await us there. 

Christian white as a ghost as Satine's limp body was laid upon her lavish bed. 

Christian conflicted with hurt and pure love. He kissed Satine's cold lifeless lips.

"It has not got long now, less than half an hour" Harold said glancing at the grandfather clock. "Then you must go, write me please Christian, so I know you both are safe"

A harsh knock at the door cut Harold's goodbye short. 

The Duke appeared. "Where is she?! I don't believe this! She can't be dead!" he shouted, the clock ticking like a time bomb. 

Harold and Christian’s eyes met, Satine could open her eyes at any moment their heart rates increasing with every second. 

The Duke felt for Satine’s pulse. He found none. 

With menace he said "easy to replace. Find one, just like her, you have a week" and he stormed from the room.

Satine her eyelids fluttering, the poison withdrawing from her veins whispered "Christian, Christian, where for art thou, Christian."