Stinky Sam

Taking a moment pause, her reminiscent eyes darted towards Wilson, who had his eyes intensely trained on hers.

Shifting her gaze once more towards the distance, her face wore a poignant, forlorn look.

"Yes, if you had guessed correctly, it was my father."

Slowly, her lips curved upwards slightly as she continued, "It was my father, but there was another voice that sounded alongside his."

Despite all of these, I was tethering along the thin line between life and death to even make out the distinctive voice. My body was too weak to stay alive.

I was a feeble kid who had stubbornly starved herself for long, after all. For as long as waiting for my almost never-present father.

But hearing his voice nonetheless brought me relief. At least, I wasn't going to die without hearing his voice.

In the last few seconds of my life, when my eyelids quivered, slowly closing its buds, a sudden bang resounded, and with it came the disconnection of my door from its hinges.

A figure rushed towards my bed and poured a tonic into my parched lips just before I closed my eyes completely.

As the tonic went down my stomach, I felt a surge of vitality and strength I hadn't experienced in weeks and immediately, I fell asleep soundlessly.

The next thing I woke up to was a bowl of a scrumptious meal, by the mini-table. And I must say, the aroma might just about be what woke me up.

Feebly, I sat up to taste the food, and that also, was unlike anything I had ever tasted then.

Instantly, I knew it had to be a foreign hand or a new, expert chef because I had the taste of the foods cooked by the chefs in our mansion.

Taking the first for tasting, the second for savouring, and others henceforth, for properly indulging in the food.

I was too lost in the delicacy of the food, filling my deserted stomach to notice a figure standing by the balcony, talking in the fresh scent of flowers in the surrounding nursery.

With every trace of grease on the plate leaked clean by me, I finally noticed the figure at the corner of my eyes.

Despite being taken aback by the presence of an unfamiliar guest, my brain quickly took me back to the last seconds before the tonic was rushed down my gut.

Despite not having made out the face of that person, a vivid outline resurfaced in my mind.

One which matched the feminine figure whose presence partially blocked the full shade of the evening sun rays in the room.

From far, she seemed to have been carved from the sun rays as my room is built in a way that ensures proper altitude to gaze at the receding sun at eve.

It was a distinct contrast to the way her long hairs cascading down her bosom, adding another shade of beauty to her portrait.

Suddenly, she turned backwards and our eyes met. Her gaze held a gentle smile, sympathetic as she turned, walking towards me.

Soon, she got to where I laid, and said, "Hi, Sam."

Hearing her voice once more reaffirmed my previous conjecture, she really was the one with the voice behind my door, alongside my father's.

The question that ran through my head wasn't "How does she know me?" - that was obvious, given she'd arrived with my father and rushed to my aid.

Instead, I wondered who she was and what connection she had to my father that allowed her to accompany him and show such concern for me.

Moreover, breaching my room would have been nearly impossible, given the seasoned guards stationed throughout our estate house.

The intricate security formations, designed to thwart even a Master Mage's escape, would have been activated with a mere command from myself, my father, or the head guard.

These formations included concentric layers of magical wards, pressure-sensitive traps, and illusions designed to confuse and disorient.

Yet, I was more preoccupied with uncovering the identity of this mysterious woman, whose presence had somehow managed to bypass our formidable defences.

But despite my rich background, my father made sure to drill certain virtues and mannerisms into me.

I kept my curiosity at bay first and thanked her for saving me because I knew I'd be a cold corpse if she had not forcefully entered.

All my dad would have done is just stay outside and call out to me, because of his guilt, not knowing I was already in a state where movement became impossible.

Her smile illuminated the room, and her pearly eyes crinkled at the corners, radiating an otherworldly glow.

"You're welcome, Sam," she said, her voice soft and gentle, yet laced with a hint of seriousness, as she sat down beside me on the bed.

"I'm just glad I made it in time. Who knows what might have transpired if I hadn't?" Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

I shuddered, recalling the icy grip of death that had wrapped around me, its chill still lingering in my bones.

A shiver coursed down my spine as I reflected on the state I was in – a prisoner of isolation, yearning for a life that seemed lost forever.

The weight of my emotions threatened to consume me, and my glow dimmed, my head slumping in defeat.

My eyes misted, as the realisation hit me – life was precious, and I had come close to recklessly tossing it away.

But at this moment, I saw the value of redemption, of exploring the unknown, and of accomplishments yet to be achieved.

She noticed my turmoil and enveloped me in a warm, comforting hug.

Time stood still as I released the pent-up tears, a mix of sorrow, gratitude, and relief.

The hug lingered, a sanctuary from the darkness, as I embraced the second chance I had been given.

Her fingers stroked through my strewn hair as my tears stained her rose-embroidered gown.

Her voice came out as a soft, sonorous whisper, "It must have been hard on you, Sam.

I know it's not your fault, it has to be Gillette's. He already explained it all to me, and I already scolded him fiercely regarding it.

He's feeling really guilty right now, though, I reckon he'd be seeing you soon."

Hearing her words, I couldn't help but be more curious about her identity.

"Who could she be? To actually be able to scold my dad, hmmm, must be someone very impressive" I thought to myself.

But with my tears stopped, and the tension slightly eased, I decided to stop keeping my curiosity at bay and just asked, still crouched in her bosom.

"Who are–"

Before I could finish, she interrupted me with a giggle, her hands still cradling my head, "Good grief, Sam, you smell like you've been holed up in this room for weeks without a bath – which, I guess, isn't too far from the truth!" she exclaimed in a muffled voice with her nose crunched.

The sudden words hit at me like a cold splash.

Though, my cheeks felt the contrast as they burned in embarrassment as I realised I hadn't taken a bath in ample days.

Swiftly, I pulled away from her embrace like a scared kitten.

Immediately, I grabbed my towel and made a hasty retreat to the bathroom, with the sound of her stifled laughter echoing behind me.