The Loser | by Isaac7525

After Raymond departed, I turned back to Florence and cocked an eyebrow. 

"What's his issue? He's been such a prick since I've met him." 

Florence sighed softly, slipping a hair pin into her blonde locks. She remained silent for a brief moment before speaking in a low, hushed voice.

"Raymond's the oldest sibling among the Fitzgeralds, the one who carries the biggest burden." 

She looked towards the now empty doorway, an unreadable pang crossing her expression. She closed her yellow eyes and exhaled.

"I can't help but pity him." 

"The biggest burden?…" I was taken aback by the statement.

The blonde-haired woman glanced at me and nodded. "He's the one who rouses his siblings in the morning when the servants make breakfast. He's the one who tutors them when academy isn't in session."

Florence reached into a hidden pocket of her nightgown, taking out what appeared to be a small locket on a bronze chain. Upon seeing this object, the woman's eyes softened and her lips curled up.

She slowly reached and opened the locket, the hinges creaking softly as it revealed two sides. One had a miniature clock, the current time ajar from what I had seen on the clock. I took notice of the glass covering of the locket, noticing it had cracked slightly.

I wanted to ask her about what happened, but I remained silent. On the other side of the locket was a photograph. It showed Florence, posing beside a man I didn't recognize.

He had a broad forehead, a flimsy-looking cap that obscured his eyes, and was clad in farmer's musty attire. His left arm was wrapped around Florence, who was too clad in the attire of a farmer.

In the background of the photo, I saw a patch of evergreen trees along a dirt-covered trail. Overhead a flock of birds flew along the horizon, and the black and white gradient of the sky told me the sun was beginning to either rise or set behind the tall trees that obscured a portion of the sky.

The entire room was silent aside from Florence's breath, which had begun to grow slightly shaky.

Florence extended her right hand and pointed at the unfamiliar man, looking at me with the same smile she bore before.

"That's Nicholas, my past fiance." She explained, her gaze shifting back to the locket she held in her trembling hands.

Seeing the man's genial expression, the way he held the woman's waist, gave me the feeling he was the type to remain loyal to Florence, but why would she claim he was a "past lover?" 

"Why bring him up?" I asked, my gaze never leaving the man in the photograph. 

The blonde-haired woman fell silent for a brief moment, her hands wrapping around the locket a little tighter as they too began to tremble a little more than before. 

After drawing a few quick breaths she finally spoke once again. 

"Nicholas was the last person I saw before I moved to Seraphis Kingdom…before Raymond took me into the establishment with Madame Fitzgarold."

Hearing this, I was instantly taken aback. "He…took you in? Is it a similar situation to Wilfred?" 

She slowly shook her head. "No. As a parting gift, Nicholas bestowed me the last of his inheritance to keep his farm running. With the money, I was able to move into an apartment downtown."

She pointed out the window, towards a towering building. It wasn't the Parterre de Fleurs like me and my companions stayed in, but rather, the building appeared more average and run down.

The roof of the apartment had thick stacks that constantly spewed out thick, black smoke into the air, which was mostly obscured by thick clouds and the heavy snowfall.

"I was able to live there for a good few months before…prices rose and I was evicted." 

Her expression slowly grew more solemn, and she placed the locket onto the table in front of the window. She then rested her elbow on the windowsill and continued speaking, her voice lowering even more.

"Luckily, employment was at an all time high, especially in the babysitting industry. So I decided to get a job here, allowing me a roof over my head."

She turned to me, offering me a small smile. "Raymond was the one who gave me the working papers. He was quite gentlemanly when I first crossed paths with him, but after Wilfred was found half-dead in the rain storm, it was almost like he had forgotten about me, focusing all his labors on the poor boy."

I leaned back in the chair, looking up at the crimson moon. "I never tell many people this, but I was found in a dumpster of all places."

I leisurely rested my hands behind my head, my body sinking downwards into the wooden surface beneath me. It was moments like this back at home, when I would climb up onto the roof and tell the stars my problems. But this time, Florence was the star I was talking to—the one who listened to my problems. 

Hearing my words, the woman's eyes widened slightly. "Heavens, in a dumpster? How'd you end up there of all places?"

"I don't know, I've never known." I replied, my hands absentmindedly curling the locks of hair on the back of my head. My feet gently tapped against the floor as I continued to speak.

"Did you have parents who…loved you?" 

Florence nodded her head. "My mama and papa were great people. They welcomed Nicholas with open arms into our house when he got kicked out."

"My father was the one runnin' the ranch we all lived on, while my mother tended the animals and vegetables. Me and my fiance often assisted with tasks, but they didn't mind if we ran off for a lil' while in the evening."

Just then, she sighed and shook her head. "They even held our wedding in the woods, hired a priest to bestow our marriage, and decorated everything for us."

She turned to me, reaching out and resting her hand on my knee. "Do you…have parents who love you?" 

The question hung in the air longer than it should have. I felt my breath coil around my neck, and my heart begin to hammer deep in my chest. My gaze remained fixated on Florence for a few silent seconds before I let out a shaky sigh. 

"My mother …She tried her best to meet my needs. She fed me, washed me in the past; hell, she even bought me a journal." 

Florence leaned back against her bedframe, tucking her knees into her chest as she cocked her head forward slightly. "And your father?" 

The image of the demon flashed in my mind, bearing an inhuman grin and a pair of malevolent horns. "I hate him." 

"Hate him? If you don't mind me asking …why?" Florence's voice softened even more, her bottom lip lowering slightly. 

I fell silent, my gaze continually fixed on the crimson moon obscured by the thick clouds. A small burning in my forehead erupted the moment I heard the question. My hands gripped behind the back of my head, coiling into snow-white fists.

I tried with a herculean effort to keep my voice down, my jaw tensing slightly as I felt the veins bulge above my brow. 

"He's always treated me like shit. He makes me do all his work, he makes fun of me for my fears, he beats me up, he eats my food—" 

The burning of the sigil amplified at that moment, flaring with a heat that could boil water. Luckily, the light from the moon, accompanied by the thick locks of hair obscuring a large portion of my forehead, blocked the anomaly from Florence's view. 

Just then, the window in front of me flew open, hitting me square in the face and sending me to the floor. Florence gasped softly and shot out of her head, ignoring the now open window and darting over to me, lifting my head to get a better view at my injury. When she inspected the wound, a small black bruise had formed on the area around the collision, just atop the sigil.

"Oh dear…" She whispered motherly. 

"That bruise formed awfully fast; that's definitely a concussion." She lifted me up into her arms and walked me over to her bed. With gentle and precise movements, she tucked the blanket over my shoulders and tucked me in. 

"You've hit your head twice tonight, if the snow lets up we're going to a medical professional." 

A dreary, ebbing pulse emerged within my forehead where the collision was, causing me to let out a low groan and rub the spot with trembling fingers. With half-lidded eyes, I looked out the opened window, gazing at the heavy snowfall which had begun to spill off the sill and onto the desk. 

"I don't think it'll let up any time soon." 

I looked back, lowering my head onto the pillows below. "And if the snow continues, what then?" 

I received no response. When I looked at the spot Florence once was, she was missing from view. Her bedroom door was left ajar, letting the darkness of the hallway enter my view. I closed my eyes and rolled over, facing the wall. 

After a few minutes I heard the window being shut, followed by the sounds of liquids slooshing around. My body groggily rolled over once again, and I caught sight of Florence with a small leather bag. 

Inside the bag, I saw a series of gauzes, bandages and other medical items. The woman wiped the accumulated snow off of the desk and exchanged a glance at me, a warm one. With practiced hands she delved into the bag and took out a roll of bandages with the thickness of a soda can. 

"Let me patch the wound up until morning; this gauze isn't the best, but it'll accommodate your injuries for the most-part." She said softly. 

Her warm hand slipped under my neck, raising my head slightly. My limbs felt as if they had been rusted away with the speed I was able to sit up in bed, allowing Florence an easier time to treat my wounds. When she held up a small, hand-held mirror, I looked like a complete wreck. 

The dark circles under my eyes, coupled with my current attire and bandages over my forehead, I looked like someone in solitary confinement rather than your average teenage boy. Florence then approached the closet and opened it, revealing racks of clothing inside. 

After a few moments of selection, she turned back to me, holding a pair of black silk pajamas with a slight sheen. They almost resembled the ones I had back at home, but the material and texture of them would have cost my fathers monthly paycheck a few times over. 

"These belong to Raymond, but I don't think he'll mind if you use them for the night." 

She placed the outfit on the bed and stepped back, gazing down at my form. "Do you need help changing?" 

Judging by the weariness of my limbs and the injury to my head I had just endured, I was pretty sure I would have needed some assistance. 

I swallowed my saliva and hesitantly nodded my head. "I wouldn't mind…" 

Florence smiled as she approached the bed again, slowly peeling back the sheets and helping me unbutton my coat and undershirt. Though I felt a little vulnerable with a woman seeing my undergarments, my face didn't blush as much as it usually would have. 

"You're immensely lucky I can control your hormones." The Umbridge's voice sounded in my mind, carrying an uncharacteristic edge of humor. 

"Whatever…" I mumbled, looking away politely as she buttoned up the pajama top and slipped the bottoms up my leg, fitting them at the waist. After taking a moment to adjust the collar and cuffs, she stepped back and silently admired her handiwork. 

"You look beautiful now." 

My face flushed slightly at the compliment, and I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "Thanks…"

Florence stepped towards the door and looked back at me. "I'll sleep in the guest room across from here. Feel free to holler my name if anything arises."

"Alright." I nodded. 

Florence gazed at me for a few more seconds, looking down at my appearance as if inspecting every meticulous detail of my new attire. Her lips then curled into a small smile as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing it behind her.

I was now shrouded in the thick silence of Florence's bedroom. Outside, I could hear the howling of the wind, along with the thick powdery snow gathering on the windowsill, threatening to spill through. 

"I have a feeling I'll be here longer than I should." I leaned back in my bed, resting my arms under my head as I gazed up at the ceiling. The Umbridge sighed softly and spoke in Their usual ethereal voice. 

"I don't trust Florence." 

I raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "Parden?"