𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 - 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎

Those were the only times Florence could talk to her mother, when she wanted to turn Florence against her own father, but she found them as cruel as one another. But as she stated previously, they were in love once, she was sure of it.

Anyway, Florence had smashed the brick atleast thrice, before she had collapsed from a shaken head, she had, and still doesn't, as to how long she stayed there for. And to be clear, her parents didn't find her, Viktoria had expressed her concern as to her missing sister, but her mother claimed herself too heartbroken to move (her father had bought another woman home right infront of her and deflowered her on their marital bed) and her father was drinking himself into oblivion to even notice that his youngest surviving child was even speaking to him, he thought her to be a dog walking only on it's back legs.

Florence's forehead was drowned in blood by the time a man had found her. Viktoria had slipped out of the manor, found someone willing to help her, he had ordered her home and promised he would stop at nothing until he found her.

Florence still had a pulse, not that she noticed. Her hair was a mix of soil, and drying blood that tangled the curls into a big knot. And when the man found her, he cared not for the obvious spraying of blood and the dyed corner of the brick that her hand had so helplessly been clasped around. He had lifted her up, his arms struggling to begin with but after he spotted the dirt behind stained with darkening blood that had pooled out from under the gash of her head, he had a new found strength.

His hold on her never faltered once on his way to returning her to her parents, but when she did get back the only people that had greeted her with anxious faces and eyebrows furrowed in fear were that of her maids and of course her benevolent, and beloved Erika.

"Hon har tappat för mycket blod tycker jag." (I think she has lost too much blood) The man had stated, the maids had quickly shushed him away but noted his statement, though they suspected they had gathered that from the gash that was goozing blood out carelessly. Before the man had retreated, he had placed the passed out girl on a chair that she could be comfortably lying down, and it had previously been a chair no one dared to touch, it was a fresh white colour, the shade of fresh fallen snow and now Florence was free bleeding all over it.

Erika watched cautiously, she was six years Florence's senior, her mother had cooked for the family for several years and then had her, and when Erika was old enough she helped around, and Florence had seen her around, and they had started an unofficially named friendship, and so watching her friend now, not blinking, trapped in an unconscious state terrified her. She was too frozen to do anything. Only when she was shaken aggressively, did she break from her frozen state.

"Tjej, gör dig användbar, hämta en läkare, gå, gå!" (Girl, make yourself useful, get a doctor, go, go!)

That day in 1805, well, Erika never wanted to relive it, it plagued her for many times, and Florence would've comforted her over the years but it was too much for Erika, but on that fateful day, the end of the world in her eyes, she had fetched for a doctor, and Erika had made herself useful. She would be damned if she let her friend slip away so easily.

She only had to mention the name Österstrom to the closest successful doctor, and he came running. It was a complicated process, the evening was spent in tears, mainly from Viktoria, the maids, Erika and the Duchess of the house. The dying girls mother. She had only escaped her induced confinement at eight in the evening, Florence had been struggling for her life since three, her eyes gazed wearingly over her daughter but spotted the doctor, emptied some money from her purse, threw it at his side before continuing on with what she came out to do with a second glance. As stated previously, motherhood didn't come naturally to her, and it loomed over every presence.

And at midnight, when Florence's pulse had almost stopped completely, her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately flying to her head as she groaned whilst attempting to sit up.

The doctor pushed her down as gently as he could manage. He ordered strict bed rest, he had cleaned her wound that still gaped open a little between the stitches. Annoyingly, rest is not what she wanted, she wanted to complete what she had failed to do, she wanted to make sure she would die, she didn't want to live, her parents didn't care, they were hating eachother to the point of ruining themselves with their loathing.

But she stayed bed confined, as she would for every small breakdown that would come to her in the following years, for a few months. Viktoria visited, but had complained about her appearance and Florence forbid anymore visits from her sister.

Her mother visited twice, she had been ecstatic the first time, she believed that finally she would get the devotion she believed she deserved but it was only to complain, and make everything about herself, as if her eldest daughter, the only plausible heir to the Duchy of Halland, hadn't tried to end herself with a brick to the head. She complained about the girls he deflowered, and how the blood stained the chair in the living room, and how he always smelt of their cheap boxed perfumes. And that was when Florence realised, her mother couldn't ever be a mother, well not atleast the one she felt she deserved, there was still hope for her father she's supposed, because after all that stained chair was from Florence, not virgin blood.

The second time, she had barely stepped through the door when she began to throw around careless names and insults about her father, and that's when she banned her mother from visiting her. When the baby came, her mother could dote on that. Florence took it upon on herself to raise Viktoria, she was delicate she knew that but Viktoria deserved even the slim chance of growing normally, well as normal as she could be.

Her head healed, and Erika made sure to hide anything that could possibly cause any destruction as weaponry, her mother had a son, a surviving one, and as predicted she doted on him. Florence and Viktoria would raise eachother in peace, their father turned away from women and drink, and to anyone on the outside they looked like the perfect family. It only took a few months for it to break, and Florence to suffer a minor breakdown again though this time no bricks could be found, and she instead just hit herself till bruises turned purple on her pale skin.

And even know, there are certain scars that she can spot on her body as she stares into the mirror, if someone was to ask her she could tell them exactly which hand was used to create which dent, which scarring, but so far no one had asked, and no one could and would ever spot the ugly scar on her head from a brick.

There was a reason as to why she had her hair down, though she had only confided in one about it, Erika of course, the curls covered the scar beautifully. It wasn't that it was an ugly scar, but from every pressuring person around her had manipulated her into never speaking about it, not to anyone.

She held her hair back now to look at it. What damage she did, had lingered and would probably linger for many years to come.

She touched it feverishly, almost scared it would jump and swat her prying fingers away. She ran her fingers over the bump of the scar, she had done this several times since she had caused this herself, and she now could remember just how long the healing process was. It was horrendous.

"Erika!" She called, she knew Erika was lingering around close outside of her room but couldn't pinpoint where, she dropped her hands from her head, "Help me with a dress for the Bridgertons, jag är i konflikt!" (I am in conflict)

As soon as the words fell from her lips, Erika burst through the door, a huge grin whacked on her face as she twirled around with a fern coloured gown, it wasn't too fancy but not too simple, perfect mixture.

"Good dress. I hear they, uh, gilla blue så green would be perfekt kontrast!" (like blue, so green would be the perfect contrast)

Florence can't help but smile, "Yes, I think it will be perfekt! You're very right, min vän!" (perfect & my friend)

authors note
yes we are going to pretend that in the regency era that they had good doctors, what about it?
but anyway thank you for reading and if you want to please leave a comment if you are enjoyed this book as much as i am when writing it <3