The Story of Florence and Mr. Elliot

Part Two

Mr. Elliot watched the door, waiting for Florence Harper-Jennings to walk through it, but she didn’t, nor did she show up the rest of the week. Worried, he took a trip down to the office to see if they have heard anything about her. The secretary, Mrs. Potts, said she hasn’t and that it was too bad since she has always personally liked the sarcastic young lady.

            Sighing with utter worry, he walked back up to his classroom. All of his students were already piled in and whispering under their breaths. He started to teach but he couldn’t. Mr. Elliot had never been so worried before in his life.

            At the end of the day, Mr. Elliot sat at his desk and stared at the floor. A student came up to him. “Hi Mr. Elliot.”

            He looked up and saw Danni Lockhart. “Oh, hi Danni.”

            “I noticed that you were really worried to day, and most likely about Florence. And you should be. She is in the ER. My brother, who is her brother’s friend, works there and saw her, she was really beat up.”

            Mr. Elliot stood up quickly. “What do you mean?”

            “Well, Evan said she had a broken arm and her face was severely bruised.”

            “Thank you for telling me, Danni.”

            “You’re welcome Mr. Elliot.” She walked out, her head down.

            Mr. Elliot ran out of the school, jumped in his car, and sped off to the hospital. Images flew through his head off what could be wrong with her. He parked his car. “Sir, you can’t park your car there!” A man said.

            “Tow it.” He dared, running to the main desk. “Hi, I am Benjamin Elliot. My student was probably checked in last night, her name is Florence Harper-Jennings. I was just wondering where her room was-“

            “She is in room 238 on the third floor.”

            “Thank you, ma’am.”

            Mr. Elliot raced to the third floor and searched for her room. Finally, he came to it. He walked in and saw Florence strapped to a breathing mask and a broken arm. She was sleeping. His knees wobbled and he sat in a chair beside her. Tears dripped out of his eyes and he held her hand. “What has he done to you?” He whispered.

            Florence woke up and saw Mr. Elliot’s head bowed with tears falling from his cheek. She looked at him for a minute before speaking. “Mr. Elliot?” She whispered.

            He looked up at her. “Flo. What happened?”

            “My dad-He raped me,” She whispered.

            Mr. Elliot bowed his head again and started to cry harder. “I-I’m so sorry, Florence.”

            “It’s not why I am here, well partially, but I am also here because I overdosed on heroin a couple nights ago.”

            “Why?”

            “Well, why not? I just want to die, Mr. Elliot. I’m sick of my dad, I’m sick of my brother, I’m sick of living. I want to kill myself.” Now tears were falling from Florence’s eyes too.

            “No, Flo. You must never wish to die. Dying is for you when your ninety and pooping your pants.”

            Florence laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so.”