ii. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓.

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┊ ➶ 。˚ ° s1: chapter zero, ✧

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┊ ➶ 。˚ ° s1: chapter zero,
.*The bet. The Introduction.

TRANSLATIONS :
Cherie — Dear. ( French )
Idiote — Idiot. ( French )
Je Suis — I am. ( French )


NOTE : FLORENCE has a lot of nicknames. Including Flora — Which is used most often then not — Flo, Fleur or Ren.

⸺  🎞️⏳ ⸺

⸺ ❝𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘." 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑, 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐗, 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 up from her ruby red mary janes and towards her mothers caring gaze. Her pouty bottom lip was jutted out, eyes all bug-eyed and sad. Fair, little hands clung around the edge of the seat, her wavy, blonde locks swirling around her face and down her shoulders. "Really scared." She mumbled, her lips pulling into a frown.

"You'll be fine, Florence, Cherie. " Her voice was rough, whispered quietly, as if she was ashamed of having to comfort the young girl. Her hand came up, flattening down her crazed hair - or, atleast attempting to. A tight, pulled smile graced her red-painted lips; a sight that made Florence's gut tighten, something she had seen too many times before. So, Flora nodded, accepting the fruitless comfort and turning away.

Flora never liked hospitals, despite spending almost every day there, she always threw a tantrum before her mother stuffed her into the carseat. She hated everything about them; the smell of medicine and chemicals, the depressed souls weeping in the waiting room and the genuine aura of heartbreak and loss that surrounded her every time she went. It was a place you when to say goodbye, hear bad news or die. And she didn't want any of those happening to her.

But she sucked it up, because if she didn't, there was almost a 50% chance she'd be dead. Being a clumsy, rule breaking six year old always resulted in injuries, that was inevitable. But being a clumsy six year old with a life-threatening disease was a whole new story. Going to the hospital weekly was vital to her safety, and she was annoyingly aware of that fact.

The door opened, revealing a tanned, brunette woman in pale pink scrubs and a colourful overcoat. Her hair was curly, a ball-point pen in her mouth as she looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "Florence Auclair?" She called out, scanning around the waiting room - that's when she spotted the shy, pouting six year old swinging her legs above the ground.

Ashlynn smiled over at the doctor, standing up and grabbing Flora's hand, helping her hop off the chair. She didn't exactly need the help, but she was pretty short for her age. That, and her mother was intensely overprotective of her. Flora kept her hand wrapped tight around Ashlynns as she pulled her towards the kind lady awaiting them.

𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒, stiles stilinskiWhere stories live. Discover now