Beast and Beatrice

Chapter ten - Gilbert

  Gilbert stepped away from the door and stumbled to a stop, so overwhelmed by emotion he was almost brought to his knees. Painful flashes blazed through his mind. Horrible memories he usually held locked away to avoid guilt and pain overwhelmed him. But when the woman had been scrambling towards that fireplace, it all came rushing back. It was only his immediate concern for the girl's safety and the actions required that kept the horror at bay. That is until she commented on his obvious experiences with fire. He'd barely kept it all bottled inside. The moment he was assured she would be safe on her own, he'd grabbed the bucket, thankful for the excuse to escape. He'd almost made it to the door when, in that quietly musical voice, she'd asked about the fire that had stolen his voice. He could no longer hold back the deluge. He didn't even need to close his eyes. Those terrible images were imprinted on his eyeballs.

Deadly flames licking up the walls of the old manor house. Servants dashing back and forth in total chaos. Panicked voices screaming and shouting.  Dashing for the front doors, bellowing desperately for his wife. Determinedly, charging through the hungry blaze. Billowing black smoke so thick it was nearly impossible to see. Coughing and choking and desperately searching for his wife and child. Mounting the main staircase, intent on reaching the private chambers on the upper story. The sudden crack and the horrendous crash of the manor coming down around him. Staggering under an unexpected blow and then falling as the staircase went out from under him. It was the last thing he remembered about that dreadful day.

  It wasn't until weeks later that he was informed of exactly what had happened. According to his father's solicitor, the entire ceiling had collapsed, and one heavy beam struck him just as the staircase gave way beneath his feet. Luckily, his body rode the steps all the way, cushioning the drop, and, when he landed, it happened to be on the only section of floor to have escaped the inferno. The beam pinning him down had also acted as a barrier. Protecting his body from the raining debris and providing him with a void, sheltering him from most of the destruction. If not for the servants who found him and pulled him out, he, too, would have perished in the blaze. He soon came to wish he had.

  The physician hired by his father's solicitor was a thorough and conscientious professional. Every vile concoction ever devised had been utilized to treat his multiple injuries, laudanum chief among them. For months, he was imprisoned in a drug induced haze, barely conscious the majority of that time. Even when he managed to swim up out of the murky depths, he existed in a living hell. His body eternally aflame with agony, covered in severe burns and lacerations.

  The flaming beam that had struck him down and pinned him to the buckling floor had permanently branded his skin, searing across his chest, over his shoulder, and down his back. His hands and arms were blistered so badly from the heat most of the skin had pealed right off. The hair on his head was a melted mass. They were forced to shave him bald. His throat was raw, and even the simple act of breathing caused untold agony. He coughed up endless vile fluids of all gross shades. Sometimes, he felt as if he would literally cough his lungs from his chest. The heaving was so exceedingly deep and painful. But the worse injury wasn't discovered until he woke after months of convalescence and attempted to question the doctor.

  The noxious fumes and choking smoke he had breathed during the fire had not only scarred his lungs and throat but absolutely destroyed his vocal cords. He could barely utter a sound. But none compared to the devastation in his soul.

  His beloved Rose and their darling baby Ruth had succumbed to the fire. Their bodies were found much later, both burned almost beyond recognition. Just the idea gave him nightmares. He had failed them both. He was no better a husband and father than his own neglectful parent. He hadn't even been able to see them before they were interred. It was all over by the time he regained enough of his wits to realize they were gone.