Chapter Text
There’s a soft knock on Satine’s open dressing room door. “Come in,” she calls, knowing without looking away from her reflection in the mirror that her visitor is Christian. This has become something of a routine—Christian visiting Satine’s dressing room to chat before performances—so she’s made a habit of getting her makeup done early in order to have more time to spend with her new friend.
“I have something for you,” Christian says by way of greeting.
“For me?” Satine asks excitedly. The prospect of another present is enough to make her set aside her eyeshadow palette—even though she’s only finished her left eye—and turn to see what Christian may have for her this time. Satine can’t help but let out a little squeal of delight and clap her hands together when she sees the box of Junior Mints that Christian is offering her, arms outstretched.
Satine can’t remember the last time she had candy. She certainly couldn’t afford it before she met Andre and now that she lives with him, their paychecks go into a joint bank account that he manages. Not trusting Satine to be unsupervised with their finances, Andre has set up a system for them. She has to ask Andre for money and tell him exactly what she’s going to spend it on so he can withdraw the precise amount for her, being certain that Satine will only purchase essentials that benefit them both such as lingerie or booking her appointments to be waxed. This way she can’t waste money on frivolous things that only benefit her like candy.
Also she’s supposed to be on a diet so anything that isn’t a fruit, a vegetable, or a lean source of protein hasn’t made it onto her plate in weeks. The mere thought of chocolate is enough to make Satine’s mouth water but thus far she’s been good and hasn’t found a way to cheat her diet as she’s certain Andre will find out. Satine swears she gains weight just by thinking about food. By contrast, Andre can eat whatever he wants and still look fantastic. They spend many meals together in which Andre is cutting into a delicious looking rare steak or spooning potatoes smothered in butter and cheese into his mouth or singing the praises of his choice of cheesecake for dessert while Satine picks despondently at a plate of greens, her dressing in a little cup on the side so she won’t accidentally eat too much of the fattening condiment. Even her salads aren’t allowed to taste good.
“I’m so sorry,” Satine hastens to apologize, clamping a hand over her mouth and staring at Christian’s knees, embarrassed enough to turn positively scarlet. “I didn’t mean to make such an awful screechy noise, I was merely—”
Christian takes a seat in the chair Satine now thinks of as his, ducking to try and catch her gaze. Satine notices his smile has transformed into a frown and her stomach sinks with dread, wondering if he’s upset enough with her that he will no longer want to be her friend. “You don’t have to apologize for being excited,” he says, surprising her. “That’s the reaction I was hoping for.”
“You were hoping to make me scream?” Satine asks dubiously, half-teasing and half-serious.
“I was hoping to make you happy,” Christian responds, his tone genuine. Satine studies his face for any signs of deceit or ulterior motives but finds none. She thinks Christian may actually mean what he’s saying. Satine doesn’t think a man has ever said that to her before and meant it. The reaction they’re usually seeking upon gifting her things is for Satine to spread her legs willingly so they don’t have to force them apart in order to get to what they really want. But Christian is looking her in the eyes, smiling so earnestly that Satine could almost believe this is what he really wants. It makes Satine relax again, tension she didn’t even realize she was carrying in her muscles easing from her body.
Satine still hasn’t quite figured Christian out—he’s always saying things and doing things that surprise her, like talking to her as if she’s a person with feelings he cares about rather than a prop for his job or bringing her candy and flowers—and Satine always feels as if she’s scrambling to keep up with him, failing to anticipate his every mood or to predict what he’s going to do next. At first it made her so anxious it nearly made her sick but after a little over a month of this, Satine is starting to feel as if it isn’t so bad. It’s somehow different from Andre, who also keeps Satine on her toes not only because Satine wants to keep him happy—as she does Christian—but because unlike Christian, Andre will punish her for every slip-up. With Christian, Satine feels like maybe she’s allowed to sit down and rest sometimes rather than fighting a constant losing battle of making sure he isn’t upset with her so no harm will come to her. Being around Christian makes her heart race and her skin heat and her stomach feel more than a little queasy, but for some reason she doesn’t entirely hate it. Instead they make her want to melt into his arms and never let go.
Satine has never really enjoyed hugs—someone else wrapping her in their arms and squeezing her tightly against their body makes her feel claustrophobic and a little panicked if they don’t immediately let go—but she has a feeling that Christian might be the exception. Satine wishes he would hug her. She thinks about it in her dressing room sometimes, when Christian is near enough that she can smell the now-familiar woodsy scent of his cologne. She tries not to let her gaze linger on Christian’s chest, on the several top buttons of his shirt he typically leaves undone. She watches Christian’s arms move—muscles rippling underneath the skin as he gestures while he talks—and wonders what it would be like to feel those strong arms holding her close, to bury her face in his neck and just breathe him in. She wonders if someone with the strength to lift her character Marie up and carry her across the stage like she weighs nothing at all could pick Satine up and make her feel held instead of afraid.
Sometimes, Satine wants to experience a hug from Christian so badly that she thinks about initiating it, but she always talks herself out of doing so before she can muster up the courage to try. What if Christian misunderstands her intentions and she loses a friend? Besides, Satine can’t remember the last time she hugged someone—it’s possible she was still a child then—so what if she does it wrong somehow and she looks stupid?
“It’s good to see you smile,” Christian adds, bringing Satine out of her thoughts and causing her stomach to flip flop. “These are your favorites, right?”
“They are,” Satine responds, speaking more softly than she means to, awed that Christian not only remembered such a trivial thing about her but went and did something about it. Satine’s body itches with the urge to throw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so tightly that they’ll have to pry her off him. Instead she ducks her head so she is no longer looking at his ridiculously kind and pretty face and busies herself with getting the package of candy open. This ends up being a good choice in multiple ways as now that it’s in her hands, Satine is far too impatient to go another moment without eating chocolate; her diet be damned, at least for today.
“You have to stop giving me things,” she says, aiming for casual. Satine feels guilty that she hasn’t been able to reciprocate. She knows Christian’s favorite candy (gummy worms) and his favorite flower (roses, predictably) and Satine wants to be as good of a friend to Christian as he is to her, but she can’t. She certainly can’t ask Andre for money to buy Christian a treat. She could lie and say the money is for something else, but then there’d be hell to pay when Andre asks to see the receipt. Andre will assume she ate the candy and she obviously couldn’t correct him and insist it had been a present for a coworker. A coworker who visits her dressing room every day alone, a coworker who buys her flowers and chocolates, a coworker she kisses onstage every night. Andre would go absolutely ballistic.
“You’re going to make Bijou jealous,” Satine adds, knowing Christian will want a reason to stop spoiling her rotten and being unable to give him the real one. It’s embarrassing to admit she’s so unreliable with money that her boyfriend can’t trust her with it so instead he treats her like a child, giving her an allowance and monitoring her spending habits. Besides, Christian might not understand and could get upset at Andre which would only make everything worse.
“What’s Bijou’s favorite treat?” Christian asks, making Satine’s heart feel warm, the way it always does when Christian asks about Bijou. Satine wishes so badly that she could invite Christian over to meet her. She’s sure they’d get along beautifully, and Bijou deserves more people in her life to spoil her rotten.
“She likes seafood flavors best,” Satine says. “Shrimp and salmon and tuna and the like.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Christian says but Satine barely hears him.
She’s managed to open the box and pops a candy into her mouth, unable to completely repress a moan as the minty chocolate begins to melt on her tongue. Satine doesn’t remember closing her eyes in bliss but when she opens them, Christian is staring at her with a mix of happiness and something Satine doesn’t think she’s ever seen on his face before. Desire.
“I’m sorry,” Satine apologizes quickly, tearing her eyes away from the heat in Christian’s expression and staring down at the box in her hands instead. The way Christian is looking at her is not only reminding Satine that Christian once had a crush on her (and quite possibly still does) and that being such a tease is cruel—but it’s also making Satine want things she shouldn’t. She tells herself that the fluttering in her chest and the warmth pooling in her lower belly have everything to do with the chocolate and nothing to do with the person who gave it to her.
Satine cannot allow this to turn into anything other than friendship. She has to remain faithful to Andre because if he caught her cheating on him, Satine fears he may kill her. And that’s a damn good reason. But the other reason this cannot be anything else is because—if she were going to have an affair at all—it couldn’t be with Christian. Either his feelings for her are genuine and she’ll only hurt him when she inevitably has to break things off. Or the other—and far more likely—possibility is that what Christian is actually experiencing for her is merely lust and the moment Satine fucks him, he’ll lose interest in being around her at all. Perhaps she’s behaving selfishly but Satine thinks she’d prefer to continue on with Christian exactly like this, that way she can keep him as a friend. “Believe it or not I am usually more well-mannered than this, despite how I’m acting today,” Satine says quickly.
“It’s alright,” Christian says, his voice slightly strained. He shifts his legs awkwardly and Satine pointedly doesn’t look at the rather obvious bulge in the front of his pants. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. That is to say—I mean—the candy. I’m glad you’re enjoying the candy.”
Satine’s answering smile is forced. She wants to apologize for being a tease but she thinks acknowledging her behavior may make everything worse.
After nearly a solid minute of awkward silence in which neither of them seems to know what to say, Christian starts to stand and says, “Well, perhaps I should—”
At the exact same moment, Satine remembers their conversation from yesterday and blurts, “Oh, I have a video for you of Bijou—”
Christian drops back into his seat so quickly it makes Satine startle which she immediately tries to mask with a laugh. “Is it one of her playing fetch?” He asks hopefully, giving Satine an apologetic smile which she pointedly ignores.
“Yes,” Satine says. She’d tried to take a video for Christian last night but Andre had been home and Bijou had been too anxious to play, so she’d dug for an older video in her camera roll and saved it to share today instead.
The situation with Andre has at least reached a stalemate of sorts—Bijou’s nail caps are preventing the further destruction of furniture and she’s given up on crying outside of the bedroom door every night—but far from adjusting, Bijou only seems to be growing more miserable with each passing day. Satine’s once overly social and sassy cat is now a shell of her former self. She’s lethargic and possibly even depressed, showing next to no interest in her favorite toys or treats or even in Satine. It’s only the evenings that Andre works late that Satine can manage to coax Bijou out from under the sofa, and even then she won’t settle. Bijou paces from room to room as if searching for something, meowing agitatedly. Nothing Satine offers satisfies her.
“But if you’re ready to go, don’t let me keep you,” Satine adds, only realizing belatedly that this is the worst timing possible. Christian probably wanted an excuse to go have some alone time in his dressing room, not get trapped here longer with Satine and be forced to watch cat videos on her phone. He likely only has one thing on his mind right now and it isn’t Bijou. She should let him go rub one out so he has time to recover before the show.
“What? No way! I have to see this video of Bijou.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Christian nods enthusiastically so Satine passes over her phone, smiling uncertainly. Although she has nothing to hide in her phone, the mere act of letting someone else hold it always increases Satine’s anxiety. Andre finds reasons to go through it from time to time and it always makes Satine break out in a cold sweat, terrified he’ll find something incriminating even when she knows she hasn’t done anything wrong.
Christian holds the device up so they can both see, though Satine has to lean closer to make it work. They’re near enough that she can feel the warmth emanating from Christian’s skin. Satine is almost always too cold; even while sweating under the stage lights she shivers in her skimpy costumes, goosebumps breaking out along her arms and legs. By contrast, Christian seems to run hot. Onstage, he keeps her warm in the scenes they have together, his hands warm against her bare skin. Satine always mourns the loss when their scenes are over and he has to let her go.
It would feel so nice to have Christian’s arm around her right now, to rest her head on his shoulder. If it were any of her other friends—Baby Doll or Arabella or Ivy or Chloe or Santiago or even Toulouse—Satine would do so without hesitation. She isn’t stupid enough to try such a thing with Nini lest the other woman try and take her head off, and she’s too nervous to try something similar with Christian. This friendship is so new that she doesn’t yet know the boundaries of it. They’re far more intimate onstage but that’s different; that’s when they’re Marie and Francois, not when they’re Satine and Christian. Besides, she certainly doesn’t want to lead him on anymore than she already has. It was entirely by accident—she hadn’t meant to eat chocolate like such a whore—but she did and now the damage to their relationship has been done.
The video is over without Satine registering a moment of it. Christian hands her phone back to her without scrolling in either direction, chattering excitedly, giving Bijou compliments she doesn’t hear.
Satine smiles and nods and then glances at the clock. “I’d love to talk longer but I should finish getting ready,” she says apologetically.
Christian quickly gets to his feet after following her gaze. “Oh, absolutely. Sorry, I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.”
“That’s quite alright, I…” Satine’s gaze drops to Christian’s shoes as the sentence dies in her throat. She wants to tell Christian that she loves talking with him, that this is one of the best parts of her day, that she wishes they could spend more time together than these stolen pre-show moments. But that’s all far too much, too vulnerable, too honest. That could give him the wrong idea or false hope. “Thank you,” she says instead, forcing herself to look up into his eyes and giving the box of candy a little demonstrative shake.
Christian smiles at her. “Sweets for the sweet,” he says cheekily, then he boops her on the nose.
Satine opens her mouth in surprise. It’s stupid and cheesy and so ridiculous that Satine should be rolling her eyes; instead she blushes like a schoolgirl and giggles, finding the playfulness endearing.
“Would you like this closed?” Christian asks once he’s in the hall, gesturing toward her door.
“Yes, please,” Satine responds. “I should put my costume on.”
“See you onstage, then.” With an awkward wave and a lopsided grin, Christian gently shuts the dressing room door behind himself.
Satine strips down to her underwear and is about to remove it so she can step into the base layer of her costume when she decides to eat a few more pieces of candy first. She has her hand inside of the box when her dressing room door is swung open and whoever is there enters without knocking.
“I’m not dressed,” Satine snaps, more irritated than embarrassed. Concerns of modesty aren’t really her thing.
“Not to worry, my girl, it’s only me.”
The sound of that voice—so unexpected in her space and so soon after Christian left—makes Satine startle and the box slips through her fingers, spilling upon impact with the floor, candy rolling across the tiles in all directions. Satine’s heart has begun pounding so loudly against her ribs that she’s certain even Christian ought to be able to hear it from all the way down the hall. Satine’s palms start to sweat, feeling very much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and now awaiting punishment. “Andre,” she says, struggling to say more as her mouth has gone dry. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Feeling jumpy today, are we?” Her boyfriend asks. The sound of the door’s latch catching as he steps into her room and shuts it behind himself seems thunderously loud in the small room. Her carefully crafted space no longer feels cozy but cramped, and all of the warmth Christian had brought with him earlier just by being here left when he did.
“I’m sorry,” Satine says, getting quickly to her knees and scrambling to pick up the candy with shaking hands. “You startled me, that’s all. It’s so close to showtime that I was expecting my dresser and she always knocks. I didn’t know who—”
“There’s no point in me knocking,” Andre says dully, sounding bored. He takes slow, deliberate steps toward the center of the room, stopping there to survey Satine’s space. The flowers Christian gave her—dried now and returned to the vase—are blocking Andre’s photo on the wall. It’s too late to move it; Andre will realize that she’s covered the photo on purpose and then he’ll have questions about the flowers, wanting to know who in Satine’s life is more important to her than him. Besides, she has a mess to clean up. “You in a state of undress isn’t anything I haven’t already seen before,” He adds, his gaze coming to rest on Satine instead. “After all, it isn’t as if we have any secrets from each other, do we, Satine?”
The pointed comment makes her breathing quicken, her hands shake as she picks up the candy—the candy she isn’t supposed to have in the first place—with increased urgency as if getting rid of the evidence as fast as possible will make Andre less furious somehow. Because he is furious with her. Despite him appearing deceitfully calm at the moment, Satine knows that if she looks up she’ll find that Andre’s eyes are blazing with rage. And she can detect his anger in other ways: in the heaviness of his breathing, in the force of his feet meeting the ground with every heavy step he takes, in the white-knuckled grip of his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Far from calm, Andre is a powder keg prepared to ignite with the smallest spark. He is merely doing everything in his power to keep his anger contained as this is neither the time nor the place for them to have a full-blown argument. But once they’re home alone tonight, there will be nothing to stop Andre from letting loose with his fury.
Retaliation isn’t a matter of if but when.
Satine keeps her mouth shut, knowing there’s nothing she can say or do that will appease Andre. The situation he’s walked in on is highly incriminating; Satine was doing something she wasn’t supposed to be and there’s no excuse in the world that will make that alright.
With the toe of his shoe, Andre kicks some of the candy in the pile Satine has just gathered, sending the pieces scattering once more to the corners of the room. “How clumsy of me,” Andre says.
Cheeks burning with humiliation, Satine crawls on her hands and knees across the floor after the candy, being certain to pick up every last piece for the second time. “That’s quite alright,” she says, forcing the words out through teeth gritted in irrational anger. The floor is dirty and hard underneath her. Satine still has makeup to finish and a costume to put on; she doesn’t have time for this. But it’s her own fault she’s in this situation and she knows this, which only makes her even more furious and all directed at herself. If she hadn’t tried to sneak a few more pieces of candy, if she’d never eaten a single one, never opened that box and cheated on her diet at all…
Everything Andre is saying and doing right now is deserved but for some reason Andre barging in like this—watching her pick up candy from the floor while Satine crawls around clad only in her underwear like a maid or a servant in an adult film—is making her skin crawl. Satine is no virgin and she knows how relationships work; she’s made her peace with the fact that at home, Andre has access to her body however he wants and whenever he wants, no exceptions. She belongs to him, after all, and there are no rules surrounding when he can capitalize on that fact—why would there be? The mere thought is ridiculous. But that’s at home. Or on a date. Or even at Andre’s work if that’s what he wants.
But this isn’t any of those places. This is where Satine works and she feels that different rules ought to be in place here. She should be allowed privacy while she gets dressed and settles into the proper headspace for performing, not made to crawl around on the floor while half-dressed, humiliating herself because it amuses Andre to watch. Though strangely, Satine doesn’t think it will be all that difficult to step into the role of Marie today. She wonders if Marie’s controlling partner Henri has ever treated her in such a fashion. If he has, Satine feels quite certain that Marie had done nothing to deserve it. Marie is good; the only thing Marie ever did to Henri was to cheat on him, and he deserved it with the way he treated her. Unlike Marie, Satine is breaking the rules of a man who gives her everything and for what—a few pieces of chocolate? Andre asks so little of her and this is how she repays him. Comparing herself to Marie is laughable.
Andre follows Satine over to the wall as she picks up the last few pieces of candy. When his hand enters her periphery Satine flinches, expecting a slap. Instead Andre curls his fingers upwards, beckoning. Reluctantly, Satine places her hand in his and allows Andre to pull her to her feet. This time Andre reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind Satine’s ear and she recoils again, still expecting him to strike her. Andre merely chuckles. “What’s got you so on edge today, hmm? Guilty conscience?”
“No, Andre, I—”
“Silence,” Andre interrupts her, twisting that same lock of hair around his fingers and tugging until it stings, making Satine’s eyes water. She clamps her mouth shut, waiting, fighting the urge to point out that she was merely answering a question that he asked. “You ought to have one, cheating on your diet as you are. I pay good money for you to see a dietician,” Andre reminds her, making Satine’s chest ache with guilt, “and this is how you show your gratitude? Sneaking around behind my back and gorging yourself on candy? This isn’t for my benefit, you know,” He reminds Satine. “It’s for yours. Why, you wouldn’t have this job if you still looked as you did before.” He takes the box from Satine’s hand, studying the label. “Shall we discover how many calories are in these? How much weight do you think you’ll gain from eating them?”
Satine swallows hard. “I’d rather not.”
“Well you should have thought of that before you crammed your face full of sweets, shouldn’t you? You’ll have to read the label in order to give the dietician a full and honest report at your next appointment so we might as well face your mistake right now together.” Andre releases her hair and shoves her toward the mirror. Satine can’t help the little whimper of fear that escapes her lips. Andre steps up behind her and Satine’s eyes find his in the mirror, searching for clues of what he plans to do to her, trying to stay several steps ahead of him and failing miserably. She crosses her arms across her middle so she won’t do something stupid like push him away. “Do you know why you’re so scared of being punished, Satine?” He asks, trailing a light hand down the side of her face.
Satine trembles, trying her best to hold still so Andre won’t notice her reaction. Sometimes he seems to relish in frightening her; other times it angers him. Neither response is desirable right now. “No.” Satine wishes he’d take his hands off of her.
“Because you know you’ve done something you shouldn’t have.” Andre leans close enough that Satine can feel his warm breath ghosting over the shell of her ear, making her shake harder. “Because you know you deserve it.” Andre guides Satine’s arms back to her sides and then grips her chin, forcing her to look directly into the mirror at herself.
She nearly starts to cry. She looks ridiculous, standing there in her underwear with only half of her eye makeup done, and is it Satine’s imagination or does her stomach already look a little bigger as well? It isn’t fat—it’s far too soon for her to have gained actual weight—but perhaps the sugar in the candy is already making her bloated. Satine blushes down through her chest with embarrassment, fighting the urge to cover herself once more. How can she go onstage looking like this? She doesn’t want anyone to see the current size of her stomach, least of all a full house. If she feigns illness—if she goes home and doesn’t consume anything but water and tea for several days—will that be enough to make up for her impulsivity earlier?
“I’m not going to punish you,” Andre says, and Satine’s knees nearly go weak with relief. She exhales a deep breath, shoulders sagging. “The weight you’ll gain from eating candy will be punishment enough.”
Satine swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time in one day.
“You ought to be,” Andre says before shoving the box into her face. “Go on and eat the rest.”
Surprised by the change in Andre’s mood and the sudden appearance of the box in her face, Satine flinches so hard she can’t help but take a small step backward. When his words finally penetrate the haze of fear clouding her mind, Satine is positive she’s misunderstood him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Andre opens the box and nods like he expects Satine to take it or to hold out her hand so he can pour candy into them. “You wanted this so badly that you snuck around behind my back to get it. You went through all of that effort and it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.” Andre shakes the box. “So eat it.”
Satine stares at the box, feeling a cold sweat break out along her temples. The few pieces she ate earlier have settled like a leaden weight in her stomach. The thought of being forced to consume the rest of the box while Andre watches is utterly humiliating. Or it’s going to make her sick. “I need to get dressed,” Satine says, changing the subject. “I don’t want to be late.”
“This isn’t a request, Satine.” Andre’s voice is cold. “You wanted this, so now you’re getting it. This is your doing; it isn’t mine.”
Heart beating double time, Satine tries to surreptitiously glance past Andre and toward the dressing room door. Can she make it there before him?
She doesn’t get a chance to try before Andre runs out of patience. Moving lightning fast, Andre grabs hold of her, making Satine let out a startled cry. He wraps an arm around her middle so tightly it forces the air from her lungs and while she’s gasping, he takes the opportunity to pour half of the box of candy into her mouth, pieces that miss falling to the floor once again.
Andre manages to pin Satine between his chest and the wall, using both of his hands to force her jaws shut, clamping a hand over her mouth and nose and preventing her from spitting out the candy or inhaling a much-needed breath. It’s so quick that Satine finds herself suffocating before she even processes what’s happened. “I gave you an order,” Andre growls in her ear as Satine jerks against his hold. “I expect you to follow it.”
Panic grips Satine as she registers the seriousness of her situation. She wonders if Andre will kill her this time. He could, easily, if he refuses to let her breathe. Instinct takes over and Satine fights back, kicking and squirming, scratching desperately at Andre’s hand, doing everything she can think of in an attempt to free herself. When that doesn’t work she tries another tactic. She manages to get her hands between herself and the wall. With a sudden burst of strength neither of them knew she had, she presses against the wall and throws herself backwards against Andre, catching him in the nose with the back of her skull and catching him momentarily off-guard enough that she’s able to get past him. It stuns Satine as well—making her head ache—but she was expecting that and therefore better prepared to act in spite of it.
It isn’t enough. Although Satine makes it a step or two before Andre gets a secure hold around her middle once again, he never releases her mouth and now she no longer has any leverage with which to break free. With the arm not currently occupied by covering her nose and mouth Andre grasps her around the waist and lifts her, shaking her like a rag doll. Heartbeat thundering in her ears loud enough to drown out whatever Andre is saying to her, Satine swings her arms and legs, lashing out wildly to no avail; Andre remains unbothered by her pitiful attempts at harming him. Satine tries to swallow but the candy becomes lodged in her throat, blocking her airway further. As her vision starts to tunnel and dim Satine begins to retch, chocolatey saliva oozing from her lips and onto Andre’s hand.
Satine doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed; she can only be grateful when it causes Andre to release her with an exclamation of revulsion. Satine barely has time to regain her balance on legs that are shaking so hard she’s surprised she’s still upright before Andre shoves her, too disgusted by her drooling on him to allow such behavior to go unchecked. Satine’s legs give and the side of her head hits the dressing room table with a loud
crack,
and then she’s falling into black nothingness. Satine tries to fight it—clinging desperately to consciousness and terrified of what Andre may do to her if he has unchecked access to Satine while she’s incapacitated—but the dark surrounding her is relentless, dragging her under until she’s aware of nothing at all, not even her own body hitting the floor.