Chapter 10: Chapter 9
" Have you really read every one of these books?"
" Well, not all of them...some of them are in Greek."
" Was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?"
" Maybe…" ~ Belle and the Beast (2017)
Scott
After hearing the conversation between Spencer and Francesca, my night was anything but peaceful. Every single one of her words hung on my mind and their conversation was on a loop in my head. My mind wouldn't shut off, so I stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night, never getting back to sleep. I watched the hours fly by and then at eight o'clock, there was a knock on my door.
" Come in," I said and Francesca's head peeked through the door.
" Good morning, Scott," she said as she walked over to the edge of my bed. " Do you want to go downstairs for breakfast or do you want me to bring it to you up here?"
"Downstairs," I replied sharply. She nodded her head and stood up straighter.
She walked over to my closet and came back with my embroidered, silk robe that had tears in the collar and shoulders from the last time I wore it.
" Can you stand or do you need some help?" she asked.
" I can stand," I reply pointedly as I throw the covers off of myself and slide over to the edge of the bed.
I grabbed onto the headboard as I stood and this time it was a little bit easier. It still felt like I had been punched in the gut while trying to breathe fire, but there were still a few stars doting my vision. I stumbled over to the stairs then Francesca put her head under my arm so that she was supporting me over her shoulders. I scoffed but allowed her to help me down the stairs. When we got to the bottom floor, I snatched my arm from her shoulders and trudged towards the kitchen. I stepped through the door and displayed on the breakfast buffet, was a perfectly prepared breakfast. Eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, orange juice, and freshly brewed coffee sat on plates with steam wafting off them. Francesca came in behind me and saw the look of surprise that was written on my face.
" I didn't know what you liked, so I thought I would make a little bit of everything," she said as she grabbed two plates from the cabinet.
She handed me one of the plates. Once she had gotten everything she wanted, which was practically one of everything, she went around the table and into the breakfast nook to sit down at one of the cold, metal chairs. There was a fresh vase of white lilies in the center of the table and the curtains, that were always closed, had been drawn open letting natural light into the room. I put a small portion onto my plate and sat down as far from her as I could with my steaming mug of black coffee. She handed me two opaque, orange bottles that I knew were used exclusively for medications and the big white labels explained which was which. One had my antibiotics in it and the other had my pain meds.
" Take those when you are done eating," she said.
I gave her no response and took my first bite of the food. I had to take very small bites so I could swallow them without feeling like I was dying. The food tasted amazing and I had to repress my urge to groan. I would never give her the satisfaction. Francesca ate quickly and left the table to start putting away the leftover food in tupperware and cleaning up all the dishes that she used. The silence between us could be heard over the sound of running water and pots clanging. When I was done eating, I brought my plate over to her and she took it without a word. She finished the dishes and then left the room.
I hobbled back over to the table and looked in the bottles that she put in front of me. I picked up the bottles and shook them a little to get a better look. The antibiotics looked much too large for anyone to swallow and the pain meds looked like white M&Ms. I took one of each out and placed them next to each other on the tabletop. I downed them quickly with a glass of water and picked up my phone. I clicked on Spencer's name and listened for the ring.
" Spencer Reed, of the Jackson and Reed law firm, how may I help you?" he said politely.
" It's Scott. What am I supposed to do with her?" I asked.
" Wow...no hi Spencer or how is the case going, Spencer? Just what I am I supposed to do with her?... Talk to her numbnuts! She is a regular human being and she isn't going to kill you, just get to know her. Treat her like you treat me," he sarcastically replied.
" But she isn't you, Spencer. And I don't want to get to know her; I just want to be left alone," I said with a sigh.
" Then you are going to have a boring couple of weeks. I have to go, Scott, the recess is almost over and I need to brief my witness," he said as he hung up.
I put my phone down and sighed. I picked up my glass, drinking some water from trying to entertain myself. I have nothing to do...I drummed my fingers on the table and looked around the room. The walls were really white. I hadn't noticed this before, but there was nothing hanging on the walls now. When my mother was around they used to be covered in photos and then when Claire moved in, her paintings were hung everywhere. I miss it...then I heard the kitchen door open again and the shattering of glass.
" Scott! What did you do?!" Francesca yelled as she pointed at the table.
I followed her gaze and realized that the shattering sound came from me. My glass of water was now shattered in my hand and the water was in a puddle under my hand. I opened my clenched palm and the glass fell away. There were many shards sticking out in all directions coming out of my hand and blood leaked from the small cuts.
" Don't move! I am going to get the first aid kit from upstairs," she said urgently.
I just stared at my hand, watching the blood spill out onto the table, but I didn't feel any pain. I could see the little glass shards that were sticking into my hand, but I didn't feel any of it. The kitchen door slammed open and Francesca came rushing over with the aggressively red hospital bag that was her first aid kit. She placed it down on the table and went over to the kitchen pantry. She pulled out the trash can, the broom, and a roll of paper towels. She pushed all the glass into the trash can with the broom and then wiped up the water and blood with the paper towels.
When everything was put away properly, she pulled a chair out and sat in front of me. She grabbed my hand gently and started to pull all the pieces of glass from it. She was very methodical, carefully moving up my hand as not to miss a single shard. When she was sure that she had pulled every piece from my hand, she stopped and looked at me.
" What happened?" she asked.
I couldn't even give her an answer because I wasn't sure. One second I had been holding the glass and then the next it was broken.
" Fine, what do you want to do next because I have things I need to do today?" she said.
" Bring me back to my bedroom," I said plainly. She sighs and then we repeat the same process of this morning. Her helping me up the stairs and me wishing that I could be anywhere else.
By the time she had gotten me comfortable back into my bed, there was a throbbing pain in my side and I could feel the puddling of blood on my forehead.
" I'll clean your head again and then I'll leave you alone," she said as she walked back downstairs to get her first-aid bag.
The process of cleaning the stitches on my head was quick and she was gentle enough that it didn't hurt much other than the slight burn from rubbing alcohol. She cleaned up the mess and taped a new bandage onto my forehead, I hope, avoiding my hair.
" Your computer and all your files are in this," she began as she picked up my briefcase, " I am going to work on some things, call me if you anything," she finished and left my room.
Francesca
I swear I am going to kill that man! He has no respect for anyone other than himself...I am literally being his personal nurse and I don't even get a response from him. I have never met anyone quite as infuriating as him!
I closed his door behind me and began to walk back over to my side of the house. The hallways were eerily quiet with none of the staff around. The house had always felt empty and cold, but now I had a shiver running down my back.
Another reason I hated old houses was the feeling that something was always watching you and no matter how many times you turn around there is never anything there. By the time I made it into Victoria's room, I had sufficiently spooked myself. When I closed the door, I was greeted by the soft light coming in from the bay window. I took a deep breath and sighed in relief. It was a little odd to be in her room when she's not here, but I had some work that I needed to get done on her dress.
I went straight up the spiral staircase and into my rolling chair. I spun myself over to my mannequin and picked up my sketchbook. It was turning out well, but the lace fabric was proving harder to use then I imagined. It was thin and it liked to fray whenever it was cut, but it was the perfect fabric for the dress and Victoria's style so I would figure it out. I grabbed the remote from the couch and clicked on the BlueTooth system that sat on the desk. "Valerie" by Amy Winehouse came spiraling loudly from the speakers and filled the room.
" Ok Francesca, let's get to work," I said to myself.
I strapped my cushion around my wrist and pinned some of the hanging fabric in place. Other than the lace being thin and ornery, the amount of tool was going to be a difficult feat to implement without the dress swallowing her. It needed to be done or the dress would just hang limply at her waist and drag on the ground. I lifted the pinned layer of fabric that would be the base for the whole dress and I hemmed the bottom. Start with the small stuff...the big stuff will come together in the end. It was something that Heather always said when we worked together. It had always proved true and I wish that she could be here to put this together. This is, by far, the biggest, the most important, and the hardest project that I have ever embarked on. And I wish that I could have her guiding hand to help me.
That all to familiar feeling crept its way back into my chest and it was paralyzing. I had to stop. I put my palm on my heart and pressed hoping to relieve the growing pressure. I hunched from the pain and tried hard to take a breath. As memories of my time with Heather were flying by in my mind, I could feel the pressure growing and become more debilitating. I had to work. I had to survive. I had to this for her. I pulled my hand from my chest and took a deep breath, clearing my mind of all other thoughts other than the dress in front of me.
The next few hours flew by and before I knew it, the day was drawing to a close. I pulled the pin cushion off my wrist and rolled back in my chair. Taking in the full product of the dress was breathtaking. I had never imagined that I could create something this beautiful with my own hands, but I have. All I needed to do now was fit it on Victoria's body then sew the dress together. I checked the time on my phone and realized that I would have to feed Scott something for dinner. I pushed my chair against the mannequin and descended the stairs into Victoria's room.
The walk from my side of the house to his was chilling. The darkness only amplified the feelings I had before and I picked my speed considerably trying to, as quickly as possible, get into the light. I walked right up the stairs to Scott's and I opened his door without the polite etiquette of knocking. Oh well…. I looked on his bed where I had left him and he wasn't there. I looked down the hallway. There was no sign of destruction from him trying to walk somewhere by himself. I went back to his doorway and noticed that there were some papers on the floor that were being blown by the fan. I walked around his bed to pick up the papers and when I bent down to pick the papers up, I saw him. Laying on the floor in the midst of the papers was Scott. He was pale and his chest was struggling to raise. I immediately ran over to him and realized what the problem was.
" Scott? Scott, can you hear me?" I pleaded. With no response, I grabbed his face and turned it towards me.
" Oh, for God's sake! All you had to do was call me! But I guess that would hurt your pride now wouldn't it?!" I declared as I ripped his shirt off.
" Pride is all a man like me has got," he mumbled in a strained voice.
" Thank God! You're not dead," I said. I pulled his bandages off his ribs and immediately there was a change. He sucked in air greedily and his chest had resumed it somewhat regular movement.
" If you couldn't breathe, you should've called me and it would've been an easy fix. But now you've gone and almost killed yourself again," I said.
" I guess you took my breath away Francesca," he whispered with a raspy laugh. I looked down at him in surprise. I felt his forehead for a temperature. Ok, so he's not ill…
" Are you joking?" I asked incredulously.
" I suppose I am," he said as he opened his eyes to look at me.
" Is right now really a good time to be doing that? You need to save your breath so you don't die on me," I said.
" No time like the present," he panted.
And I helped him back into his bed and picked up all the papers that had gone flying when he went tumbling to the floor. I got a new ace bandage and wrapped it, looser this time, around his bruised ribs. When he leaned up, I saw that there was a new pattern of bruising on his lower back.
" Great! Didn't you have enough bruises, Scott?" I asked rhetorically.
" Next time, just pick up the phone and call me! I am really not that far away and no work I am doing is more important than your life," I said seriously.
" Aye, aye Captain!" he said as he mockingly saluted me.
I put his stuff back on his lap and left the room. I leaned up against the closed door totally confused. He had never acted that way around me before. I pushed off the door and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. As I gathered the necessary equipment for making dinner, there were two questions in my mind.
Was this the real him? Or was the man I met before really who Scott was?
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone