Small Heath's Angel

Chapter 22 - Eidolon

I'm alive -- here's a chapter

Word Count:
7921

Florence's eyes fluttered open as the morning light and the bustle of the street hit her. She pushed her half knotted hair from her face, her bun having come incredibly loose while she tossed and turned in her sleep. Her entire body felt heavy as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

The world felt as if it were moving slowly around her. Florence had no idea how long she had slept yet she still felt exhausted nonetheless. The sounds of people moving through their day-to-day lives filled her ears; children laughing, men barking orders at one another, the occasional trotting of a horse. Florence was pulled from her mind with the sound of a door closing and heels clicking against the floor.

Polly walked into Florence's field of view, her face relaxing as she saw her. "You're awake," she said more to herself than anything as she placed a tray holding the makings of tea on the small table. "I was beginning to worry."

Florence rubbed her heavy eyes. "How long was I asleep for?"

"About eleven and a half hours," Polly said as she poured tea for the younger woman, adding half a teaspoon of sugar and placing the cup in Florence's hands for her.

"Christ," she whispered. What was happening to her? Florence knew her headspace was getting worse and work was getting harder but eleven and a half hours — of uninterrupted sleep nonetheless? She was worse than she thought.

The muttered word was the only thing Florence could bring herself to say. The tea was the perfect temperature as it ran down her throat. It warmed her; began to fight back the last of the haziness that seemed to impede on a clear mind.

Polly served herself a cup of tea, allowing silence to fill the room as Florence fully woke up. Florence could tell Polly was hiding something, she didn't know what nor why but something small in the back of her mind was tugging at her.

The ticking of the clock filled the empty space. Florence finished her tea quickly. She leant forward and placed her cup back on the tray, the blanket that covered her body falling. Glancing down, she shuddered for a moment when met with the state of her uniform; the memories of the previous night making themselves present. The blood had turned from a ruby red to a darker on, a slight tinge of brown running through the spatter.

A cold sensation fell over Florence. Her mind became blank as she stared down at her dress. Memories of the previous day flashed through her mind. The father held his wife as she weeped over the death of their child. He was silent, the pain evident in his eyes as they became vacant. So he held her, the woman he loves, as they stood in the hallway processing the loss in their own ways, unmoving; where Florence could do nothing but offer to give them some time with the body, unable to meet the father's eyes.

She flinched as a hand ran from her shoulder down her arm. Her surroundings came back to her and Florence relaxed against the touch; realising who she was with. The warmth of the fireplace hit her body as she brought the blanket back around her shoulders.

Moving closer to Florence and giving her shoulder a light squeeze, Polly held out her other hand, a leather string with two leather pendants threaded on it. "Tommy told me to give these to you," she said, sending a warm smile.

Florence stared at the object for a moment before delicately picking them up and examining them. "How did he get these back?" she muttered, not taking her eyes from the tags.

"He didn't tell me," Polly admitted. "They've immediately gone to you though. He only got them back late last night."

Her eyes darted up. "He was here?" Polly nods. "And he didn't want to see me? Even talk to me?" Florence's voice cracked at the end.