Perfect Doesn't Mean It is

A Chapter by jjuneO

The beginning.

There she stood, Cosette Wotton, with her eyes fixed upon the people judging her. Her fists compressed and front teeth took a hold of her lower lip. The humiliation she could feel, was racing against her ticking heartbeats, and fighting the pride inside her head. The figures waited, with their patience running low. She knew she’d have to speak sooner or later, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

A tight corset was painfully compressing her ribs, making it even harder to breather. It almost seemed to her that this, this " thing, which was supposed to give her the fashioned body shape, was trying to restrain her heart and breath, and kill her on the place. Her chest ached, and the only thing covering the sight of the painful press on it, was a light dress. It was made out of the finest silk on earth and was the soothing colour of dark red. It hung elegantly down from her shoulders, made a perfect curve at her waist and the hem of it easily dropped down to her ankle. Little black shoes decorated and brought out her delicate foot from under it.

Cosette knew that no matter what would happen after this, she’d never forget the picture she saw from behind those dark eyes of hers. Five people sat before her at a long, decorated table, with five wine glasses and a bottle. They were two men and three women, staring at Cosette with eyes, which almost seemed full of murderous intent. Out of those monsters " respected monsters " who had her entire life in their hands, one was the most frightening. Madam Wretch, as her name suggests, was a wretched " in Cosette’s eyes " woman. She was overweight, elderly, and to the girl, she nearly looked sleazy. Imagine that kind of woman, with horrifying eyes, like the coldest caves in the icy mountains of the north, deciding everything for your life. Her crooked nose stuck out of her face like the beak of a pelican and she had thin, dry hair, raised up on a bun through a lot of trouble. Her dress was red, flowery, tasteless and enormous, and as she sat there sipping wine, she thought of herself as the most beautiful person on earth.

“Miss Wotton, we would be delighted to hear your speech now. Or perhaps you’ve got another presentation for us, maybe something more exhilarating?” her disgusting, thick eyebrow crept up her forehead as she asked. Cosette felt a twitch somewhere in the area of her nose. She did her best in the attempt to control her repulsed expressions, but the hag saw right through Cosette with her stabbing glares.

“Or perhaps you dear mother has a punchline in the effort of selling...” Madam Wretch paused to pick the correct word to soften the meaning of it. “...your resources. What do you have to say, Mrs. Wotton?” Everybody in the room, turned to look at the rather young woman sitting on the left side of Madam Wretch. She was obviously pretty, with her big, dark eyes surrounded by a row of thick lashes, and her thick, brown hair dangling softly from her head. Furthermore, she was wealthy, for she was wearing a fine black and white dress of expensive fabric. A chain of exotic pearls was put around her thin neck and a huge diamond ring sparkled in the faint light of this room.

The woman looked alarmed.

“W-well, my daughter is obviously worthy, and beautiful...” Mrs. Wotton began, scanned Cosette from head to toes, and somehow realized that she wasn’t very good at giving unprepared speeches. She undoubtedly wouldn’t make a good advertiser. She cleared her throat and continued, as if from the beginning:

“Cosette, is of noble blood, and just look how her gorgeous, brown hair shines in a light as dim as this one! Oh, and I must say, that she’s very talented with music and arts. I assure you, she is what you’re looking for, Madam. She will be of use to your company,” Cosette’s mother continued her unholy dialogue. It seemed that she was proud enough of herself, because she saw a hint of approval on Madam Wretch’s face.

“Alright, in that case, your daughter must present something, in order for us to see whether she is in fact as capable as you claim her to be,” the old woman said. With that the stares were locked on Cosette again.

Cosette felt her eyes water. She knew she had to sing the song prepared, or put on a dramatic act, but all she could think about was getting out. Her mind filled with thoughts and guesses of the future; a more horrible or a better future. She tried to picture all the possibilities. Refusing to do what was asked of her wasn’t smart. God knows what her mother would do to her if she didn’t... but then, does God know what these people would do to her if she did? She pressed her hands to her face, crying, but pretending that it was an act to buy some time. It was the choice between two horrible lives, and the choices aren’t even out there to see. It’s a bet.

And so, as she pretended to act a scene, she slipped her little high-heeled shoes off her feet and turned around to face the door. For another second, she wavered before her decision. However, in a fraction of second, her instincts kicked in, her world seemed so clear that moment, and a powerful force within her set her running with all she had. She stormed out of the room, and ran down the long corridor barefooted. Her future was chasing her. It was too clear and too close. She imagined herself being pursued by fuming hounds, she could almost feel them by her heels, they were almost there; almost caught up with her, almost hurt her. Adrenalin rushed through her body like it had never before in her life. The strength of the nature overwhelmed. She was powerful, and fast, and she was getting further away from the ferocious animals.

“Cosette! You can’t do this to m... us!” her mother shouted from somewhere far away. “Think about the money! We need the money, Cosette!” she could hear. Once again, her heart filled with sorrow. For the first time in her life, she felt so alone. She tried to recall who her friends were, she tried to remember the people she spent time with, and she tried to bring back her childhood... but as much as she was trying to search her memory, there was nothing special there. The people she talked to, only were there because of her family, and the men only talked to her because they wanted their sons to marry her, and the children only played with her because they didn’t have a choice. And she continued running, and the dogs were right behind her, and a staircase was there before her. Her pace slowed severely, for she began making her way down these curved stairs. The footsteps of her mother and someone else were following her, and they were getting closer.

“Don’t you want to put your beauty to some use, Cosette?” Mrs. Wotton yelled after her, but her daughter had disappeared somewhere under the ground level. Mrs. Wotton was now exhausted. She wasn’t as young as fit as Cosette was, and she collapsed, fell to her knees. She kept looking into the direction the girl had disappeared, and sadness " not over her daughter " over the lost money brought her to a breakdown. That miserable woman cried over something so minor, when she’d just lost the thing which is supposed to be the most precious thing of all to a mother.

“You’re a lousy excuse for a woman,” Mrs. Wotton heard a low male voice from behind. She immediately stopped crying, and tried to dry her eyes with her fingers, but her actions were cut short. Two strong hands took her by the arms and lifted her up to her feet. The woman turned around and looked furiously at the bold male in front of her.

“What’s the meaning of this? Did I give you the permission to touch me?” she asked with such a fury in her voice, of which she shuddered herself.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I believe it is no longer for you to decide,” the man growled, picked Mrs. Wotton from the ground and threw her over his shoulder. She gasped in terror.

“How dare you! Put me down immediately!” the yelling continued, but she was once again interrupted. Madam Wretch was approaching this scene with a sort of a malicious smile. Her dress was too long and it dragged along behind her, her jewellery was over dramatized, and everything about this old witch was somehow hideous. Just the mere sight of her made even this shallow Mrs. Wotton feel nauseous.

“I’m sorry, lass, you broke the promise. The girl ran away,” the hag pronounced through her wrinkly lips. “We did agree on the terms and conditions, didn’t we?” she continued with the small hint of an upcoming chuckle.

“No! Wait! I’ll go get her back. Just wait here a second! I’ll get her back!” Mrs. Wotton cried. By now, she was feeling like her heart could burst, fear was grating her conscious and little drops of regret " regret for making this contract " began dripping from her slowly.

“No, child, things in life don’t work like that.”