Zoey Richardson
A treasured social elite or a criminal Cleopatra?
A cunning young woman or simply a lucky naive girl?
Widower or murderess?
Traitor or victim?
Duality had always played a role in this authentically zealous woman's life. On the out...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Although Zoey was only 21, she had probably hit more rock bottoms than the average young adult, however waking up in that hospital had to be the absolute lowest she'd ever felt before in her entire existence.
A fragile breath evaded her bloodied lips as they parted painfully, while her vision started to steer into focus an odd and unsettling crawling sensation ran across the skin of her skull where relentless shocks had been emitted, leaving its unwanted imprints. Her second observation upon waking was that she struggled to feel or even move her hands and feet, as her hearing took a moment or more to tune into her surroundings, she knew this because if it had been, she would have detected the unexpected yet surprisingly comforting ramblings of Alfie Solomons reading the paper from the corner of her room.
Zoey debated capturing his attention, but she wasn't ready. She was not ready to deal with everything just yet- after so many wounds had been reopened, so many new revelations and questions, and still so much suffering. All she wanted was nothing, stillness, silence. But what she got was him.
Lost in a deep trance, she found her mind wasn't working the same- its logical networking had declined yet the emotional stress had increased making her concerns over business anxiety-inducing. She couldn't even jitter to release some of her nerves as her muscles were still locked in stiffness.
However, she found some level of solace in Alfie's recitation of today's news, his face hidden by the big sheets but she could still tell it was him- his voice was easy to recognize. "The steamer SS Rowan sinks off the coast of Scotland. Twenty-two people lost their lives." He cleared his throat, before making his own comment, like he often did back when the two had first begun sharing company, "Well that's hardly bloody news for London, is it? Happened all the way up fucking Scotland." Flicking to the next page, Zoey couldn't hold in her dry chuckle.
"Ah and there she is." His warm eyes peered over the top of his paper, and his reading glasses had magnified the kindness of his gaze reaching out to her own, even if she could only really see out of one eye properly. "Alive and well," his charming comedic flare had managed to light up what should have been a dismal moment.
"Somehow." She had played along with his light-hearted approach even though all she wanted to do at that moment was explode, instead, she allowed her lips to politely twitch upwards as she struggled to sit herself up.
