Lost in Time - Part 1

Hetty

**Frederick Treves and Ann Elizabeth Treves had two daughters: Enid Margery Treves and Hetty Marion Treves (who died on the 31st May 1900 from a perforated appendicitis and only she will appear in the story, especially due to my extreme respect for Dr. Treves and empathy for his pain. Unfortunately, he was the only one who could operate on her at the time...).
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It was decided Saoirse would stay on Treves's house indefinitely. The girl was a danger to herself, especially given her curiosity. She was amazed and annoyed, because her mobile didn't take any pictures.

"She looks at things with minutia," said Ann, Treves's wife, with laughter on her voice. "But what about those clothes? Don't you have a guest for tea today?"

"Yes, I was going to talk to you about that, Ann... Since nothing of yours fit her, keep her hidden. Please."

"Frederick! The poor girl! I couldn't!"

"I never asked you anything. I'm begging you. Her legs are bare. Why haven't you given her an appropriate vestiment? And how can I explain John she's from 'the future?' Besides, he may shock her."

Ann bit her lip.

"I couldn't, she's statuesque, as you can see, I don't think anything will fit. And she refuses to 'dress up.' I'm desperate here myself."

"Ann!" exclaimed Treves.

"And how am I supposed to 'keep her hidden?' Lock her in the attic?" asked Ann, worried.

Treves repressed a laughter, snorting.

"I'm sure you'll find a way. Now, I'll fetch John."

"Frederick! Please! The poor girl has been here for only a few hours, let's not traumatize her further!"

"I have nothing more to say. I promised him."

And he left, shutting the door.

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When Treves arrived, Ann was jumpy.

Saoirse wouldn't leave her side and refused to hide.

Then her husband entered the room to introduce John.

Treves flushed. It was awkward. He felt like an idiot for not having prepared the red-haired girl.

Saoirse got visibly shocked, and so did John.

"Who are you?" asked John, fascinated, forgetting his place and talking like this... to a woman.

"What are you?" she answered, equally curious and fascinated.

She couldn't help but notice the guy had a huge head. Very, very sad sunken eyes. And a... messed up, destroyed face all over. Worse than a Picasso.