Back When the Lights Shined

Chapter Twenty

The next morning, I expect to wake up to the sunlight shining through the window, or the birds chirming in the trees just outside. Not even these beauties of nature wake me. Instead, I wake up hearing yells in the hallway. I assume it’s one of the maids, but I’m unsure of who the second voice belongs to. I’ve heard if before, I know. I can’t seem to place the name or even the setting.

            “You aren’t welcome here,” the maid’s voice yells. “You never were!”

            “Really? The president would say otherwise,” the voice retaliates. He has a French accent. Ashton is awake now, also listening to the argument.

            “He’s dead!”

            “Exactly why those people should be executed for treason! Not praised!”

            “He was an evil man. You’re the same as he was!”

            “They’re traitors, Belle! Eventually, they’ll kill us all.”

            “You’re only upset because you know they won’t want the likes of you around. You just want your money.” The next part of the conversation is too muffled to understand.

            “Whatever. I’ll be back,” the unknown voice says, ending the conversation. I hear footsteps, coming closer to the door.

            The door swings open and a chubby woman with short red hair comes in. She has a bright dimpled smile and freckled cheeks. Her apron has a bit of flour and strawberry syrup on it.

            “Oh, you’re already awake! Good morning,” she greets us, cheerfully. “My name is Annabelle. I’m here to serve you breakfast.”

            “Nice to meet you, Annabelle,” Ashton says. She begins putting plates and glasses on trays.

            “Pardon my asking, but who was that just outside,” I ask curiously. She pours some maple syrup on our pancakes and scatters some brown morsels from a bag labeled “chocolate chips.”

            “Oh, the man just outside the door? That was Jean Beaulieu. He also worked for the president.”  

            As soon as I hear the name, my face falls. I know the name all too well. I spent the worst days of my life studying that name on a nametag. I hated the name, and I hated the owner of the name. Most of all, I feared it. That name meant one thing; pain, fear, and sorrow. I cannot stand that name, and if I were to see that man again, I swear, I would die.

            “Is there a problem,” she asks. Ashton looks back at me.

            “Zena, what’s wrong,” he asks. I open my mouth to explain, but nothing comes out. It’s then when Annabelle lets out a sharp gasp, realizing for herself.

            “Oh! You’re the prisoner they brought in a month ago,” she exclaims. Annabelle covers her mouth with her hand.

            “What does that have to do with things,” Ashton asks.

            “Jean Beaulieu is the royal torturer. He was the main man on duty last month, during her short time here.”

            Ashton looks back and forth between me and Annabelle. He almost looks as horrified as me. Before saying another word, he takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. The gesture is reassuring, but I still can’t get the name off my mind.

            “He hurt you,” he asks, gently. “He did all of that to you?”

            I nod to him, staring off into the distance. All I could remember from those days was that name, until now. Now, it all floods back to me. Everything he put me through. He wanted me dead, and he was going to enjoy being the one to do it.