"Hello.....my name is Skye and I'm your new caretaker", she says with an apprehensive smile. Fletcher stares at her through his long lashes, before motioning with one slim finger for her to move closer. She complies, doubtfully moving toward the man. "Ah!" he shouts, making Skye clutch her ear in pain. "Just as I thought. You have freckles. The name's Fletcher by the way", he says before turning to gently inspect the front cover of his notebook. Skye openly gapes at him, confused by his behaviour before remembering he has no official diagnosis. His eyes squint as he looks over her every detail. "Come to wake me did ya?" he asks. "Oh, I really had no intent to. I apologise" Skye mumbles.
Fingering the chain around her neck nervously, Skye glances about the room, noticing the lack of furniture and ignorance on the function of vacuum cleaners. She guardedly slides into the creaking sofa and crosses her legs, in a proper lady-like manner. "No need to be so uptight, peaches" Fletcher says, finally making eye contact again with the girl.
"Peaches?" Skye asks tilting her head to the side in confusion. "You smell like you've ate a peach recently" he concludes with a shrug of his shoulders. Slowly nodding her head in disbelief, Fletcher begins to stretch his arms out and yawn. "Interested in the mortal suicide that is overdosing in too much confectionery sugar?" he questions.
In a seemingly frantic movement, Fletcher gives the woman no time to respond accordingly as he pounced out his bed, grabbed her wrist and hurriedly leads her though a maze like hallway towards the cafeteria. The chef and other bakers take no heed to Fletcher's presence, almost like they were expecting him to arrive any minute.
"Pick your poison", Fletcher states while proudly jabbing his finger in the direction of a case filled with sweets. Pushing down her initial reaction of raising an eyebrow, she eventually snags her guilty pleasure. "A cupcake for a cupcake", Fletcher proclaims loud enough for the sioux chef to clang his knife to the floor. "And what will you have Mr. Apothecary?" Skye asked with a slender smile.
"Had you read all of my personal report, you would know that I am strictly prohibited from any and all carbohydrates as they directly affect my frontal lobe with addiction", he states. A heavy feeling of carelessness coated every cell in Skye's system. Eyes widening, she yanked the clipboard off the countertop and skimmed through it. Only to find that he was right, sugar was not allowed in his diet.
***
Padding the skin of her feet against the chilled night tile, Skye hastily opened the sliding glass door and steps out. Her lungs were eager for untainted air. Once her respiratory system receives its fill of fresh wind, she rakes her shaking hands through her thick hair, before resting her elbows on the balcony ledge. She begins to play with the charm, resting on her neck. A single tear of guilt creeps down her pale face and splatters on her polished toes.
Returning to her unfurnished home, Skye numbly slides into the comfort of her makeshift bed. Releasing each and every bit of anxiety that had been bottled up inside her. She rubs the soft fabric of her most cherished patchwork blanket. The calming scent of sea cotton invaded her nose, all but tranquillising her.
Skye glances her pupils out from under the soft quilt over to the only unpacked picture frame of a young, prepubescent girl. Instantaneously, all of the stress floods back through her body. She shoots herself out of bed and practically punches the light switch, engulfing the room in complete darkness.
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YOU ARE READING
Yellow Paper ♡
Romance"Fletcher is our hopeless case here. Kid pushes everybody away due to his personality disorder", he says. Leading her further down the corridor, her boss stops her in front of the only cell without clear windows. A chill of uncertainty cooly slides...
