Belle woke up with a violent start. She sat up, stiff-backed and chest heaving as she took gasps of air, with ice-cold sweat dripping down her body. Her eyes were wide open; still watching the horrific scene that played behind them. Belle felt her body shake as she tried to relax. Eventually, she willed her lungs to take in deep, slow breaths.
Once she calmed down a little, she glanced at the space on her left. The bed was empty. Belle closed her eyes and sighed in relief.
If Gaston was there he would've become angry with her for waking him up, instead of giving her the comfort she needs and deserves.
After looking at the grandfather clock (3 a.m.) on her other side, she slowly laid back down.
For the past few weeks, she's had the same reoccurring dream.
Or rather, a reoccurring nightmare. A nightmare that is, unfortunately, a memory.
She saw herself with him, feeling the happiest she's ever been, before he was taken -- no, ripped -- away from her by the monster that she reluctantly calls her husband. The hole in her chest tingled in pain. She clutched her heart and silently cried.
When the morning light rose through the windows, Belle reluctantly woke up. She lay there for a moment, trying to shake off the effects of her dream. For some reason, they still lingered, as if to tell her something.
She stifled a groan, rolling out of bed and getting dressed for the day. She pulled on a lavender satin tea gown and black slippers. Then she fixed her hair into her customary ponytail and matching bow.
Another glance at the clock, and she rushed out of her bed chamber. Even if Gaston is late for breakfast, she can't be. Otherwise she would have to face some rather uncomfortable consequences.
When she reached the dining room, she smoothed out her dress and slowed her gait. She entered, but didn't see Gaston. Belle sat down and started stacking her plate with the food. Even though she can barely stomach anything anymore, she made the effort to at least try and eat.
A few minutes later, Gaston and his men arrived in their usually boisterous manner. She tried not to grimace as they came in and sat down.
Gaston walked over and leaned in for a kiss that she reluctantly gave. This kiss made her tense up more then usual, but she couldn't figure out why.
Belle closed her eyes, counting to ten to try and calm herself again. When she opened them again, she was greeted with dark, kind blue eyes and long, light colored hair.
Those eyes and that hair definitely don't belong to Gaston.
Yet, they seem so familiar. A very comforting familiar.
It took her a minute to realize that Gaston was sitting at the head of the table, and this. . .stranger was actually sitting across from her.
Belle mentally shook herself. She was slowly losing her mind. Of course Gaston wouldn't sit across from her. That would mean he actually respected her.
"Dear. . .who is this?" Belle asked softly. Although she indicated to the stranger, she avoided looking at the man.
"Hmm?" Gaston murmured, his mouth full of food. He swallowed then spoke. "Oh, this is Adam, your father's caretaker."
Belle dropped her fork and stared at her husband with wide eyes.
"W-what? What happened to my father? Why does he need a caretaker?" she demanded.
Gaston shot her a disapproving look, but decided it was best to just answer her questions. He knew he would never hear the end of it otherwise. While Belle was a very good, loyal, and dedicated wife, she sometimes forgets her place.
