The Truth About Endings

Chapter 3

Ashley

I wake up with the pain still in my back but not as excruciating as before. However, the pain didn't make me oblivious enough to notice that I am in a different surrounding. This is such a pretty place to be my room or too grand be Mrs. Potts'.

"I see you're awake now, miss." The voice is unfamiliar and it startled me. I gazed to my right and saw an old man, maybe in his 70's or something.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?" I asked as I try to rise, but the pain is still there for me to overcome.

"Should I answer the former or the latter first?" he asked politely. He's standing on the bed side near me.

"Whatever you wish for, sir" I guess it's just okay for me to address him "sir" since he is extraordinarily polite.

"Okay. Maybe you're a bit disoriented but you fall from your roof and we managed to hear it. So that answers the question on why you're here.' The old man answered.

"I don't mean to be impertinent, but when I fell, did I land here, in this place already? I think not. So I guess you should also answer where I am and if you would be so kind, please indicate who you are because I want to know if you're some kind of a leader of a syndicate who kidnaps girls who fall from roofs." I asked. I know it's improper, but the pain in my back gradually raises my temper.

He chuckles. "A bit impatient, not impertinent, I should say. You are in Ashford's residence, miss. If it's quite pretty obvious that our houses are so close with each other, we heard the thud. It's also the window of the house that you broke by your flying book. And before I forget, I'm Mr. Ashford. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He said while reaching his hand for me to shake, like other formal meetings.

I'm not dreaming, am I? Is this really Mr. Ashford looking at me now? The mystery of our neighborhood is now talking to me. He's the old man I imagine him to be, long white hair tied back, wearing a dark suit and by his manners and posture, you can very well observe that he's a member of nobility.

"I'm sorry sir for causing you trouble at this time of the night when you should be sleeping. I hope we can settle my payment for your broken window and - "

"My broken window?" He asked, as if it's something he didn't know.

"Yes, sir. Your broken window. I thought you made it clear earlier that the book, which I suppose I owned went flying through your window pane." I answered simply. With a bit of confusion painted in my face, I guess.

"Yes indeed. I mentioned that your book broke the window of this house. But I never mentioned that this is my house. "He answered, with a smile on his face.

"What do you mean? You said that you're Mr. Ashford." I asked. Now, the little bit of confusion turned into a complete confusion plastered all over my face and audible in my tone.

"It must be the fall that you can't comprehend, I should say. Yes, I am a Mr. Ashford, but I am not the Mr. Ashford. And also, it's not my window you broke, it's his. The Mr. Ashford." He said. Now, the smile is very visible in his face as if answering a very funny question.

"You mean, there's another Mr. Ashford? " I asked. Finally getting some sense.

He chuckled. "Voila! You got it. I'm Mr. Robert Ashford, uncle of the owner of this house, Mr. William James Ashford. Now that you know it, you should take a rest and he will talk to you tomorrow morning." He said.

I settled my head in a pillow and I feel like both the pain from the fall and the fatigue from day's work is dragging me to sleep. But then, I asked again, "So he's the one who – "

"Rescued you? Yes, and he asked me to look after you when you wake up to do some explaining. Rest now, miss. So your injuries will ease out faster. Good night." He answered.

And the last thing I remembered is the old man, who happened not to be the Mr. Ashford I though he was turning off the lights and closing the door behind him before I finally allowed the deep and dreamless sleep to claim me.

William

Robert told me that she is fine now. Thank that he had been in medical practice for so many years that I find his view on her condition accurate. He also informed me that she's fast asleep which means that I can visit her now. I don't get myself at all, I know that I can't avoid the fact that I'll be meeting her face to face because I'll be talking to her tomorrow. Yet I can't gather my guts to talk to her tonight. I'm staring at her now, beside her bed. I never thought that I can look at her this close. I comprehend the finer details of her face. She has long lashes that could cover her eyes if you're looking down at her. She has a dark and long hair, in the light, it looks deep brown and in dim light, it almost looks like raven black. She has a small pointed nose and she has a full mouth that curves naturally into a smile. She's pleasant to look at, even at sleep. I know that it looks creepy, me, staring at her while she sleeps. But I can't help it. I also wonder how it would feel to touch her hair or her cheeks with such a pale complexion. And before I could come up with some crazy decision to actually touch her face, I stopped myself. Waking her up and freaking her out is not in my plans. I remember how I saw her lying on the ground when she fell and thought that the fall injured her so much that I rushed down to come into her aid. I quickly carried her and shouted at Robert's room to check her. It was a great relief to me that she's okay. She seems to sleep dreamlessly now because she looks so peaceful, a feeling that has been deprived from me for years. I thought that she's still struggle to go out from here since this place is very unfamiliar to her. I never thought that she'll trust quickly. I guess that's the thing with good natured people, they see everyone with kindness and not as potential killers the way I do. I took my last moment of staring at her because tomorrow, after I finish talking to her and settling everything, things will go back to normal. She, going on with her life and me, taking glances from afar.

But for the first time in my life, I've never been wrong.

Completely wrong.