Beau and the Beetle

The front door rang the hanging bell as someone entered the shop, Brigette’s excited voice calling out, loud and excited. Sabine shoved the basket of supplies for Marinette into a low cupboard, and kicked the door shut just as Bridgette swung around the doorframe.

‘They found him,’ she shrieked.

‘Found who?’ asked Tom, as he entered through the rear door.

‘Adrien. Apparently, he just turned up, filthy and starving, at a train station last night. He’s recovering in hospital, but he’ll be back at school soon.’

Sabine’s heart twisted. She was relieved for the boy and his family, but it was a bittersweet feeling.

After Marinette had been transformed, she and Tom had consulted with dozens of magic users. All of them told her that transformative curses were nigh unbreakable without the magician who cast the spell, and the best they could offer was to make Marinette as comfortable as they could while they waited for her to die.

She and Tom had been aghast at the suggestion of allowing her to starve to death, but Sabine knew Marinette had no quality of life hidden in the musty old tunnels. So, she tried to enrich Marinette’s existence, with books and letters, as best she could. Lately, it hadn’t felt like enough, and her daughter was still suffering.

When Bridgette and Tom headed to the front of the store, Sabine removed the basket from its impromptu hiding place, and put the supplies back where she had found them.

Following her family into the shop, she forced a smile.

‘Isn’t it a relief, Aunt Sabine?’ Bridgette asked, her face flushed.

She nodded. ‘His family must be so happy.’

Tom placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and squeezed.

Wringing her hands, Bridgette lowered her gaze to the floor. ‘Maybe there’s hope for Marinette, yet.’

‘Adrien was only gone for a few days,’ Tom told her gently. ‘Marinette has been missing for months. The chances of us getting her back alive and unharmed is miniscule.’

‘I know,’ she replied, frowning. ‘But we can still hope for the best, right?’

Sabine didn’t see the point in arguing. ‘Yes, Dear. We can hope.’

Bridgette spent the rest of the day happily going about her chores, and making the local deliveries. It was too much for Sabine. Once the door swung shut behind Bridgette, Sabine crumped to the floor and sobbed.

Tom crouched beside her, rubbing her back with soft shushing sounds.

‘We’ll figure something out,’ he murmured.

Sabine shook her head. ‘We’ve asked every magic professional we could find. They all said the same thing – Marinette is as good as dead.’

‘Come now, if we – ‘

‘No,’ Sabine interrupted, sharply. ‘It’s like you once said, it’s time we accepted the loss and move on.’

Leaning back, he said, ‘you can’t be serious.’

Pained and conflicted, Sabine quickly grew exasperated. ‘Be realistic, Tom. That half-life she has down there is no life at all. She’s alone, secreted away with no hope of a future. She has nothing to look forward to, except madness and an early death.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’ he asked, warily.

‘I’m saying,’ she replied, taking a deep breath, ‘that we take out own advice. We let her go, peacefully and mercifully.’

Tom reared back, appalled. ‘You want to let her die.’

‘She’s going to die, anyway. If we let her starve to death, at least it’ll be faster.’

‘It’s inhumane.’

‘Is it? When our pets suffer from injury or illness, we put them down rather than let them suffer. The families of people in comas make the decision to let the patient starve because it’s too painful to keep them hanging on, after all hope of recovery is gone. Some countries have even legalised euthanasia to ease the pain of loved ones. How is this any different?’

‘Because Marinette is neither old, nor sick, or comatose. She’s alive, awake, and healthy. Just transformed, that’s all.’

Sabine threw her hands up. ‘But she’s still suffering. I love her dearly, but I can’t allow my only child to continue to live like that.’

Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘So, what, we just stop giving her food, just like that?’

Placing her hands on her knees, Sabine looked at the floor. ‘We do it gradually; send less food less often. She’ll grow weak and tired, then one day, after she lies down to sleep, she just won’t get up again.’

‘You seem to have thought about this a lot,’ Tom said, his voice carefully neutral.

Sabine squeezed her eyes shut. ‘This isn’t easy for me either, you know. I don’t want to do this any more than you do.’

‘But you’re still entertaining the idea.’

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want to murder my child, but I hate the idea of her ongoing suffering even more. Do you think that in five, ten years from now, she’ll thank us for leaving her in that state?’

Tom shook his head. ‘If she chose to die, then she would stop eating of her own volition. We can’t make that decision for her.’

‘Then what are we to do? You’re saying we put our lives on hold until such a time when we can confirm her suicide? How would we ever know?’

‘We send her letters, and she writes back. We’ll be able to observe her state of mind in her writing.’

Sabine snorted. ‘She already writes of crippling loneliness and depression. Blind Freddy could predict her descent into madness.’

Tom stood up. ‘I won’t have any part of this. It’s too cruel.’

Releasing a weary sigh, Sabine watched his back. ‘At least think about it. Keeping her down there, like some dirty little secret, is taking a toll on us. Even if we kept going as we are, we’re stuck here until you change your mind, or until we can confirm her death.’

Tom strode off, his back straight and stiff. Sabine leaned back, resting her head against the cupboard door, and closed her eyes. She didn’t want Marinette to have to live like that, but allowing this to go on was only going to cause them all pain in the long run.

She hoped Tom would come around soon.