What The Fox Said

Chapter 3, The Letter

We soon had to leave the mill. We had been there for seven days. He told me that we had to leave and go to the nearest inhabitants for supplies and a better place to stay. Flynn picked the worst time to go because it was pouring with rain. Flynn didn't seem to be affected at all. I soon became completely soaked through the heavens had opened. My future kidnapper didn't tell me where we were going, he just blankly looked ahead. It was an eternity before we reached a small town. Flynn booked a hotel for the two of us, with his own money and as soon as I saw the grand bed I collapsed on it, exhausted.

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, there was a trolley with breakfast foods displayed. Scones, buttered toast, croissants, coffee and best of all crumpets smothered in butter and jam. Mmm! When was the last time I had eaten a proper meal. My mouth began to water s I realised how hungry I was. Before I began my feast, I noticed Flynn was at the bottom of my bed. He was turned away from me and  he had neatened his mahogany hair and was singing a song  didn't quite recognise. The words were pretty though.

"The stars lean down to kiss you,

And I lie awake and miss you.

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly,

But I'll miss your arms around me.

I'd send a postcard to you dear,

 'Cause I wish you were here."

His voice was so beautiful and wonderfully pitched that I had to compliment it. As I did so, he turned round in surprize. His face was a little paler after the last time I saw him. He smiled. "Oh you're awake? Erm, thanks?" He blushed and let out an embarrassed little chuckle. He obviously didn't get complimented that often. I smiled to ease the awkwardness. I grabbed a thickly butter-smothered crumpet and let my teeth sink into it. Before I knew it, I was on my fifth one. I felt so guilty.

 "Don't you want one?" I offered him a honey smeared crumpet, he refused it sharply.

"Oh I'm not hungry, I've already eaten." Some guilty expression came over his handsome face before he masked it with a false grin. He was hiding something; I knew it. I was right, but  I didn't find out until later on.  A room service man came in and handed Flynn a note. He had it with a worried look on his face "I'm going to go, stay here." He commanded I nodded in response. He raced out of the room and dropped the empty envelope that once contained the letter he now was clutching as he ran away. I had a good chance to look at his name. I knew it was 'Flynn' but I had no idea he had so many names.

Addressed to: Mr Flynn Naeem, Ashe, Valentiniano, Amadeus, Elijah-Soul, Andrew Yeats. What The hell! The letter had been scrawled on pressed paper with a fountain pen that smudged. Have those people heard of biros? I placed the hollow envelope on my bedside and sighed. I was in the dark about a lot of stuff Flynn was doing. My conscience angel on my shoulder said 'Of course you are not entitled to go snooping through his life. He's keeping you in the dark for a reason you know, Poppy!' My devil on my other shoulder zapped the angel with his torturing fork and said 'You've been involved in his life enough! You should be entitled to know about him!" For the first in a long time, actually agreed with my anti-conscience for once. When he came back I was going to ask him. My subconscious was screaming at me to stop and I ignored it. In the time he was gone, I brushed my hair with a comb I found lying around and used my emergency debit card to pay for some fresh clothed to wear, since the  clothes  I was wearing I was going to throw away because they were stained beyond fixture. I bought a mini, patterned dress, a jacket and a pair of leather boots before returning to my hotel room.

 Luckily, he was back soon but (in the state he was) I didn't think it was the time to ask questions. Flynn staggered through the doors. He was covered in blood and cuts, he was almost dead. He collapsed on the floor with a soft thud. I was so shocked. I had been through enough without Flynn dying on me. H was now unconscious on the ground; I felt for any signs of a pulse. No. I quickly called 911. I was falling over my words. They told me an ambulance will be there shortly. I had to do CPR on him five times before I heard the weakest heartbeat and I wasn't even sure if it was from him or from the booming beats from my pounding, worried heart. He couldn't die. Not here, not now.

Finally, an ambulance arrived and men in high visibility jackets sprinted in with a stretcher. They put an air mask over him, put him on the stretcher and headed back to the ambulance. I hopped on too, hoping he was still alive. The road was long and bumpy. I was looking at him; he looked so vulnerable and broken When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors put him into an immediate operation and told me to wait outside the theatre.

I looked around the waiting room, mainly at the small goldfish swimming around in their bowl. As I waited, tears blurred my vision. It wasn't fair! Why was I going through this! Especially after what happened to my family! My curly, red hair fell over my tear-stricken face causing some of the strands to stick. Was he going to die? All I could do is wait and hope...