Thread: Odette (Montresor & sweet.nothings)

His face she would never forget so handsome, so raw, and contorted in so much misery that it was heart-wrenching. The drizzle of non-stopping rain drenched both of their clothes. They were both soaked to the core, but it didn't stop her father from dragging poor Odette through the mud-slogged street and up the stairs to the doors of Villa La Chesnaie. He was so drunk, and babbling under his breath words that she couldn't make audible, but three-year old Odette didn't really understand his impaired state of mind. All she could see was how lost her father seemed to be. It frightened her, because papa was normally so full of life around Odette. A woman answered the door, and took a concerned glance at both Odette and her papa. A moment's later she shook her head in refusal and began to shut the door without offering any words, but Odette's father urgently jammed his foot into the opening of the door to prevent it from closing, and insisted his demands, You must take her. I can't do this! We have no room! The woman argued, as polite as possible. Besides we only take children from mothers who has been widowed. But I AM a widower! She is gone. I couldn't do anything... Odette's papa choked up, and nearly doubled over from the pain in his heart, but it only took a fleeting glance at his little girl to stop the threat of tears once again. She was so similar to her mother in so many ways - her big eyes so trusting and so very confused. He bent over and swept Odette up into his arms, and she went to wrap her small hands around his neck but he wouldn't allow it. He pushed her towards the woman, through the opening of the door. Please, you've got to. I...I'm not well enough to care for her. Having the child pushed into her arms the woman took Odette, quite reluctantly, but it was a nature of her duty. And it was at that moment that little Odette understood what was happening. It was like a blow to her chest, and she cried out as her father quickly turned away to retreat down the steps of the Orphanage. 'Papa! papa! But Odette's papa never looked back at her. He never said goodbye, and Odette never saw of him again. The chattering of the birds outside the reclined window brought Odette back out of her daydreaming state. She realized she had been crying, and she briskly exposed her hand out of the silken sheets of the bed to wipe her face dry. Crying was not something she allowed very often, especially in a place such as this one. She swallowed dryly before slowly and carefully tucking her arm back beneath the sheets of the bed. She supposed that after having come so close to death it was only a natural response to reflect upon your entire life's journey, accomplishments, and weigh them upon the scale of mortality. Odette didn't welcome any of it. But from the moment she had gained consciousness back from Rogier Montresor's attempt at her life, and through the hours of being examined and cared for by an elderly physician, she just couldn't stop the onslaught of memories. They filtered in and out of her mind, whether awake or sleeping. She felt fragile and vulnerable right now. And dare she admit to herself, that she was also feeling unwanted, rejected, and disposable. They were her old demons that brought with them depression and sadness. But it didn't make any sense to her how Rogier, as unfamiliar with him as she was, could awaken these devils within her. It frustrated her how his decision to execute her had unzipped this insecurity. She saw her papa wrapped up within the essence of Montresor's attack, all too familiar with the notion of being discarded like an unworthy child. Odette carefully breathed as she rested on her back, as if every breath was a foreign bodily function. A streak of pain would ripple through her chest muscles if she took any sudden movement, but it was the continuous sore hurt which refused to dissipate even with stillness that made her weak and tired, for it felt like a constant state of labor. Her green eyes once again, for the hundredth time, focused across the room upon her habit, and fondly rested upon the rosary that had been removed from her body along with everything else. It draped and dangled over the dark dresser, pinned by the bundle of humble clothing and forgotten by her host. How she longed to have it in her hands right now. Just as Rogier ran to his pistol, she yearned to run to the cross. Her fingers began to fidget at her sides as they imagined counting the beads on the amber rosary, and imagined reciting every single prayer which every single bead represented. She didn't know how to process what had happened to her - what Rogier had done. Odette's heart was just as wide, trusting, and confused towards God as her eyes had once pleaded with a distraught father. She didn't know how to address her prayers, nor the proper emotions she ought to be feeling right now towards a God who refused to bring her into heaven. Was it a gift or a burden that she was still alive? Odette could only think of one logical reason, and it was because God was not done working through her yet. Antoine Calais remained in her mind, and his case still moved her heart. When the Marquee de Montferrand finally entered the room Odette became awash with insecurity, but she did her best to put on a brave face. There was stress in her at seeing his quizzical stare that eventually made her grimace beneath the sheets. He didn't care for her nor for anything she stood for, nor for anything she was requesting from him. He had desired to murder her, and he had followed through with what he had wanted. And now she still remained against his will. Odette forgot how to breath for a moment's time, because no one couldn't have been any more clearer as to how rejected and disposable she was. He unraveled her, and he didn't even know it. She hated the silence between them, but it was not her place to speak first. Sister Odette endured the tense atmosphere as he addressed the window and its expansive view. Her vision studied his back profile, but snapped to his reflecting eyes as he finally spoke and inquired. Odette faltered in answering him, because yes...it was a complicated question, and it made her puzzled as to his motive. Was this the beginning of an apology? Or perhaps better suited, was this his way of apologizing? Odette did open her mouth to speak but nothing came out, for a new sudden thought dawned between her eyes. Was this the mad introduction to more harmful designs? It did seem to fit his ruthless characteristic. Odette looked away as fear flooded her heart, and her vision landed once again upon her rosary. Forgiveness does not come in measurements lord Monstresor. Her fingers began to fidget once again as she dolled forth a three-word prayer within her mind, trying to calm her unraveled emotions. I've already forgiven you, and there is nothing left to discuss about it.. She took a deep sigh and followed through with a headstrong heart, yet without returning her gaze back to Rogier. She needed to focus on what God was capable of doing, and not upon what Rogier did to her yesterday, or could possibly do further. ...However, the matter of Antoine still remains and I would very much like to continue that discussion.