Mental

Chapter 6 - Francine

Striding towards the house in a fast pace, she was greeted by a woman in her early twenties in a maid’s uniform, and takes her bag. After giving the item, she continued her way towards her bedroom, which is located upstairs and demands,

“Where’s Mom?”

“Miss Sylvia called and wanted me to tell you that she will be home late today because of an emergency with the printers.” was the scripted reply, the maid following her towards her destination.

She hums in understanding and enters the room, closing its door in a rebellious slam, making the maid flinch in surprise, an answer to her yet to be asked question, ‘Do you need something?’

Obviously a no.

---

Slamming the door behind her, she never bothered to turn on the lights and tossed herself unto the welcoming softness and soothing mattress of her queen-sized bed. She snuggles her face close to the feathery soft pillows and curls her body in fatigue.

She shuffled a little more in the bed until she found a comfortable position to relax. She sighed in bliss and let slumber envelop her entire being when a though zapped into her mind. As much as she wanted to sleep more, this thought had been intriguing her after her ‘friendly’ conversation with Lancelot an hour ago.

Why the hell did he went to such extremities as to invite her to go to the movies? Neither of them even knows where each other lived. They just talked for less than ten minutes, considering they did nothing but bicker and play before she broke that man’s jaw. How’s the guy’s jaw now, anyway? And of course, finding the invitation quite suspicious, she declined. What report? She has four days to write it up and she can easily finish a five-hundred-letter report in less than an hour.

What was more intriguing is that his once nervous demeanor turned into a professional woo-er in a blink of an eye, asking the name of the art museum they were designated. Telling the name might not hurt and the guy sounds a little dejected, so maybe that’s the least she can do. It’s not like he can go there tomorrow, right?

That’s right, there’s no way in six hells that Lancelot can go there tomorrow, or whatever day he wanted since they were towns apart, right? Or are they? Oh my God, this is making her paranoid. What if the guy was a stalker and killed the guy the person he was stalking liked and was brought to the Anger Management because of his unexplained anger-whatever problem and started to have a liking towards her? It’s not like she can’t defend herself, but she noticed how the guy looked at her Uncle at the facility that Saturday. What if he kills Uncle Tom, thinking that Uncle Tom might hinder his ‘future love life’ with her?

She sighs again, this time rather stressed. She was stressing herself; she should’ve given him the museum’s name in the first place if this is making her frustrated by the minute. She tried so hard to sleep her problem, but one single thought haunted her thoughts throughout her sleep: 

‘What if it’s true?’

She can’t say she slept well that evening.

---

Alas, the fated day of Thursday has come, she recalled herself as she stood in their school’s parking lot along with her fellow classmates who unlike her, are all excitedly chatting away with their friends in their own circle of crowds, making her stick out like a sore thumb.

Despite the awkward tension her body feels because of being excluded from the crowd. She can’t help but notice how they obviously make sure to keep at least a one-meter radius away from her, probably still because of the ‘lab incident’, which she can say is even better than before where guys from her classes or even those she never knew ever existed kept on approaching her and forcing out a conversation that bored her to death.