The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 11 - The Weight of Living

Melody slowly closed the notebook. The ink probably hadn't dried yet, but she didn't care. She didn't want to see what the pages said, didn't want to see how many blank pages were there waiting to be filled. Colt was silent.

"Is there," Melody said, then paused and licked her lips. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, as if she had been the one talking that whole time. She cleared her throat and started again. "Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

But Colt wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Puzzle, who was standing. Her knee joints popped with the movement. She lowered her head in a final bow toward the cross, then flipped off the light switch.

"Are you done?" Colt asked.

Puzzle nodded. "Are you?" she said.

"We're done," Colt said and stood.

"Great, because all that sounded like a lot of fun," Puzzle said. She looked at Melody. "Are you okay? You look super pale."

Melody nodded shakily and stood. Her knees also cracked. Colt took the rosary from out of Puzzle's hand and pushed the door to leave the chapel.
"What's the matter with him?" Melody asked in a quick rush of breath.

Puzzle didn't miss a beat. "You mean, what's he diagnosed with?"

Melody nodded.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder. You'll be meeting his Others soon."

Melody tried to run to the bathroom, but a gate blocked her way. So she vomited on the floor instead.

The next morning, Melody woke up with the sun, but she didn't get out of bed. She stayed there and watched the sky fill with brightness. There was a knock at the door but she said nothing and the knocking stopped. Then a few minutes later there was more knocking. Again, she said nothing and continued staring out the window. The mattress was firm, almost hard. It was uncomfortable. She hadn't realized it the night before, so exhausted from jail and the drive to Versailles. Finally, there was a more insistent knock and the door buzzed open. Puzzle walked in, a heavy air of lavender entering with her.

"It's time to get up," she said. Melody sighed and pressed her face into the pillow. It felt as if a huge weight were on top of her, pressing her into the uncomfortable mattress. Some part of her wondered if she would ever be able to stand up again. Maybe she would just die right there on that bed in the Palace at Versailles. Then her mother could come and pick up her body, place it in a coffin, burn it, and that would be the end of it. It sounded so simple.

"Are you going to get up?" Puzzle asked.

"No," Melody said.

"Okay," Puzzle said. Her voice was lighthearted, almost happy. "Do you want the doctor?"

"No."

"Okay," she repeated. "Not sure how well she's going to take that decision, but I'll let her know. Tell me what kind of happy pills she gives you. I might need to steal some."

And then, like some sort of fever dream, Puzzle was gone again, closing the door behind her. Melody lay there for a long time. She didn't think about anything, which was an unusual change of pace for her. The sound of the piano downstairs began to play, and it sickened Melody. She put her pillow over her head to block out the sound, but that only amplified it. There was a newfound disgust in that music that had never been in Melody before. She loved it still, and probably always would. It was similar to the way she would always love Thomas, even though the thought of him made her feel nauseous.

Melody pulled the pillow away from her head. She had preferred it when she didn't think at all.

The quiet only lasted for so long, though, before there was a more gentle knock on the door, then the door buzzed open again. Doctor Riley entered, looking more impeccable than she had the day before. She gave a warm, welcoming smile. "Good morning, Melody."