“I’m sorry, the results are inconclusive,” the doctor's voice became smaller, sadder but he still continued nonetheless, “you will never be able to walk ever again,” he whispered apologetically to his bedridden patient. It was a frail-looking woman who was completely immobile on the bed, only her head was out of the blue blanket. Her amber eyes dimmed a little and she suddenly looked way older than the forty years she actually had.
That last bit of news just served to effectively crush the last ray of hope Fayre was nursing for three months now. She was still beguiling herself that she was going to be okay, that she would, like always, stand back on her feet and her next strike would be all the more glorious. It didn't matter the time it took, so long as she could be nursed back to health, so long as she could move by herself then... Then. Then what? What did it matter that she thought so far when in actuality she couldn't even move as pleased anymore? They had won, hadn't they? That new experimental treatment didn’t work on her. Tears welled in her eyes that she fought to not let spill. Why? Just why?
That last bit of news just served to effectively crush the last ray of hope Fayre was nursing for three months now. She was still beguiling herself that she was going to be okay, that she would, like always, stand back on her feet and her next strike would be all the more glorious. It didn't matter the time it took, so long as she could be nursed back to health, so long as she could move by herself then... Then. Then what? What did it matter that she thought so far when in actuality she couldn't even move as pleased anymore? They had won, hadn't they? That new experimental treatment didn’t work on her. Tears welled in her eyes that she fought to not let spill. Why? Just why?
In order to let her have some privacy, the man in the white coat walked out of her small hospital room, to let her digest her misfortune.
Soundlessly, Fayre turned her face to the side, facing the wall and let the tears fall on her soft pillow. Why was fate so cruel to her? She wasn’t the one who cheated, she wasn’t the one who took other people’s properties, she wasn’t the one who lied, or tricked or stabbed in the back… Why was the universe so cruel to her when she did nothing to deserve such?
At that time, she had been so close too, so close to deliver everything to light, to expose their lies and manipulations, to let them taste a well-deserved stay in jail… but everything went down the hill with her car crash, the evidences stolen, and now this…
After a certain amount of time, the door slid open and closed, sounds of footsteps coming closer. With a small and broken voice, without turning her head, she requested, “let me alone, please.” She was so very tired. The doctor, she thought, could come back later, at another time when she would be in a more amenable mood to hear about the instructions regarding the following steps, for now... She simply didn't want to think.
The person, however, didn’t exit the place; instead, the chair near her bed was pulled and the person sat. Fayre turned around and her breath hitched. Williamson Simmons.
"What are you doing here?" she asked unwelcomely, her voice turning cold.
She could hardly spare the man more politeness. After all, this was the child of her husband’s mistress. Those last years, she fought tooth and nail against that father and son pair. However, three months ago, her car had been sabotaged. She needn't divine intervention to know who she owed it to. Her ex-husband, she learned bitterly, wasn't one to play fairly and it wouldn't come as a surprise if this child picked those bad traits of his dear parent.
She could hardly spare the man more politeness. After all, this was the child of her husband’s mistress. Those last years, she fought tooth and nail against that father and son pair. However, three months ago, her car had been sabotaged. She needn't divine intervention to know who she owed it to. Her ex-husband, she learned bitterly, wasn't one to play fairly and it wouldn't come as a surprise if this child picked those bad traits of his dear parent.
The young adult was wearing a black suit and tie, his ink-dark hair pulled behind with gel. He took the time to look at her, from head to toe, expressionlessly -not that there were many things to see since she was under thick warm sheets. Not answering her question, when he opened his mouth, it was to ask one of his own,
“Do you believe in life after death?”
“Do you believe in life after death?”
Pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, Fayre didn't answer either.
Though the young man was most certainly her ex-husband's biological child -she did indeed verify this by having more than one DNA tests done in secret-, he didn't really look like his father all that much. His gray eyes, which held shades of silver seemed to be always glaring frostily, and that, associate to his reserve and maybe should it be called hostile personality, it effectively served to hold people at distance contrarily to the more smiling Danielson, whose hazel eyes seemed to hold a unique charm and attractiveness and coupled with his extrovert-ness, made him easily surrounded. But at the same time, Will couldn't be more like his father: from the way he talked down to the way he moved. Then again, genetics were sometimes louder than anything else, weren't they?
The young man was in his early twenties now, twenty-two to be exact if his personal papers of that time were to be trusted. Something Fayre truthfully doubted. Since day one, she never knew how to get along with this child. Her acts of kindness were ignored, her very being was ignored... She never heard him call her mother, not even during the time when she was ready to believe that he was really an orphan that Danielson had adopted and not her husband's own flesh and blood.
The young man was in his early twenties now, twenty-two to be exact if his personal papers of that time were to be trusted. Something Fayre truthfully doubted. Since day one, she never knew how to get along with this child. Her acts of kindness were ignored, her very being was ignored... She never heard him call her mother, not even during the time when she was ready to believe that he was really an orphan that Danielson had adopted and not her husband's own flesh and blood.
It had been a time since they last were in the same room together, just the two of them. Since hearing the truth behind his origins, she wouldn't let herself be in the same room with neither of the three people: her husband, his mistress and their progeniture. The divorce papers had been drafted and sent, her lawyers taking care of everything. Since then, she never saw those family members without a representant of the law by her side.
Will seemed to sigh softly before unbuttoning his suit and making himself comfortable on the small chair. He began talking again,
“Glaring at me isn't going to make me leave... Though I don't expect gratitude I also... I really..." his words died as a frown marred his face. What an unusual sight.
Fayre suddenly felt like she understood everything and couldn't help but mocked herself,
"Obviously, it's you, isn't it?" she said in an aggressive voice, "You what? Want me to praise you? A shrine built for you perhaps to commemorate your kindness?"
In a place where she couldn't see, his hands ticked and they were clasped on his thighs, though he said nothing as she derided herself,
"Still an idiot at this age, aren't I? What of those sweet girls' lies? 'You meet the criteria. You can enter our program. It got good results.' A foundation paying for my hospital bills if I said yes to their experimental treatment..." She sharply glared at him. "Your lies are way more elaborate than that of your father, that's for sure... But ultimately you're like him, aren't you? You gave me that hope only to see my face when it will be snatched away."
He stayed silent for a time, looking at her condemning eyes as her tears were streaming down the side of her face, wetting her pillow. He spoke with this detached tone still that she loathed from the bottom of her heart.
"It was really like that. In the beginning. I helped you just to watch you crumble. Payback for those years ago, I suppose.”
Fayre suddenly felt like she understood everything and couldn't help but mocked herself,
"Obviously, it's you, isn't it?" she said in an aggressive voice, "You what? Want me to praise you? A shrine built for you perhaps to commemorate your kindness?"
In a place where she couldn't see, his hands ticked and they were clasped on his thighs, though he said nothing as she derided herself,
"Still an idiot at this age, aren't I? What of those sweet girls' lies? 'You meet the criteria. You can enter our program. It got good results.' A foundation paying for my hospital bills if I said yes to their experimental treatment..." She sharply glared at him. "Your lies are way more elaborate than that of your father, that's for sure... But ultimately you're like him, aren't you? You gave me that hope only to see my face when it will be snatched away."
He stayed silent for a time, looking at her condemning eyes as her tears were streaming down the side of her face, wetting her pillow. He spoke with this detached tone still that she loathed from the bottom of her heart.
"It was really like that. In the beginning. I helped you just to watch you crumble. Payback for those years ago, I suppose.”
She sneered, “You are really your parents' child. A payback you say? For what? Trying to protect my properties?”
His hands ticked.
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze shifting from her to the windows, from where he could see the passageway, crowded with people. If she didn't know better, she would think he was uncomfortable. The devil, as if!
His hands ticked.
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze shifting from her to the windows, from where he could see the passageway, crowded with people. If she didn't know better, she would think he was uncomfortable. The devil, as if!
“Their blood does run through my veins.” He exhaled in the end.
"They could be proud of their child then." She spat at him.
He returned his gaze to her. Her tears were still falling. The rims of her eyes were completely red. Seeing this, the clasp of his hands tightened. He said softly, akin to a whisper, as though he didn't really mean to but couldn't quite help himself,
"... The doctor wasn't supposed to tell you... About your test's results."
Her eyes sharpened again,
"Why? You wanted to break it out by yourself?"
A complicated emotion merged on his face. One she couldn't really recognize, for, in the end, she truthfully knew very little about this person. He leaned closer, his face softening,
“… Mother,” he called softly, freezing her on the spot, as some fleeting nostalgia merged in his being. His voice was low and attentive, measuring every sound it seemed, tasting every syllable, "do you believe in life after death?", came once more that inquiry from his mouth.
"... Never... Never call me that again!" reprimanded the shaking voice of the Fayre.
During the first two years following his entry into her life, what didn't she try to do to get close to him? Don't care about calling her 'mother', he wouldn't even talk to her let alone answer when she took the initiative to speak about anything. And now he suddenly called her 'mother'. For what? Mocking her? Really his good parents' child!
Will smiled bitterly. Fayre couldn't, for the life of her, understand what this was all about. His voice had a sad timber as he spoke once again in the heavy silence of the room that had followed her exclamation,
"... Never... Never call me that again!" reprimanded the shaking voice of the Fayre.
During the first two years following his entry into her life, what didn't she try to do to get close to him? Don't care about calling her 'mother', he wouldn't even talk to her let alone answer when she took the initiative to speak about anything. And now he suddenly called her 'mother'. For what? Mocking her? Really his good parents' child!
Will smiled bitterly. Fayre couldn't, for the life of her, understand what this was all about. His voice had a sad timber as he spoke once again in the heavy silence of the room that had followed her exclamation,
“Mother...I don’t think that there is life after death... or rather I used not to... Death is the very end after all…. What is the point of hoping for an after... But recently, I started thinking that if a place like heaven exists, it would be good if only for people to have a better place to go to.”
Her expression was still unwelcoming, and the rims of her eyes were still red, but anger had already made it so that the tears of despair stopped falling. They will, later, he knew when she would remember her own powerlessness.
He paused, seemingly waiting for a comment from her, but Fayre, at this point, didn't care anymore. If he didn't want to go, let him talk to himself.
In the end, he resumed,
He paused, seemingly waiting for a comment from her, but Fayre, at this point, didn't care anymore. If he didn't want to go, let him talk to himself.
In the end, he resumed,
“These past months, I asked an investigation of you, of your past, of your family... And of mine... It had really been thoroughly done. At first, I was animated by the idea of revenge against you, you see, for all those things you did to me as a child. The stairs, the choking, the pool, every little accident... The poison. Remember the poison from when I was ten?”
Her voice sounded weary and tired, “You’re a lunatic and as crazy as your parents. I already told the police I had nothing to do with it back then, and I will say it again, you’re delusional!" She sighed, wondering with herself why she still cared enough to contradict his words in the first place, "Must you invent something to make my life a living hell, you think being confined in this bed for the rest of my life isn’t enough?”
Her voice sounded weary and tired, “You’re a lunatic and as crazy as your parents. I already told the police I had nothing to do with it back then, and I will say it again, you’re delusional!" She sighed, wondering with herself why she still cared enough to contradict his words in the first place, "Must you invent something to make my life a living hell, you think being confined in this bed for the rest of my life isn’t enough?”
“It really wasn't you who poisoned me when I was a kid?”
She didn’t even deign to give his nonsense question with an answer this time.
He sighed, a deep sigh, akin to torture as he fell back on the chair, looking like he took a couple more years in a matter of minutes, “I see.”
He got up to leave and paused by the poor, “for what it’s worth,... I’m sorry.”
A pity that for her,
it was worth nothing.
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