The long stairs leading up stares at me; in this dim enclosed space. The only light is a lamp at the very top, revealing the first two doors.
I take a step up, and the wood creaks upon the touch of my boot, feeling as if it will break the second I put enough weight on it. My hand touches the railing for support, but I retrieve it right away after feeling the oiliness of it. That explains why its wood is shiny.
Another step is another creak, the only noise that's heard in this room. The thought of seeing Frida again, knowing from what Nora had told me, is making me anxious. How would I bring up about that night when she's ill.
Would she be too ill to speak to me?
Such questions run through my head until it didn't come to me about finally reaching the top of the stairs. I meet with three doors on each side of the wall. Confusion and wonder struck me. Jack did not specify which door is where Frida will be, but actually, he didn't mention which room.
I resulted to knocking on every door, see who'll answer which door. Only Mr. and Mrs. Flinttank should be living in this household. So I knock on the door that's on my right, waiting for an answer but to hear nothing and get no answer.
And so I proceed to the other door, located on the left. I knock on it, hearing something drop on the inside. The door flings open to reveal an old dwarf man that has the same appearance as Jack but way older, with white hair.
"What?" he grumpily asks, not sparing me a look. He tries to balance himself while he holds a bottle of liquor in his hands. The smell of alcohol reaches my nose, making me hold my breath.
"Uh, sorry, wrong door, "I exclaim. The door shuts harshly after that.
I turn on my heel with wide eyes. The last door in the middle should be it, no doubt. So I wasted no time, and I knock at it.
"Coming."
Relief washes over me as soon as I hear her voice but frown at how weak she's sounding. A cough came from inside, then footsteps before the door creak as it opens. There stood a familiar figure, however, is in a weakened state.
Her unreadable eyes became hollowed and darkened. Her skin is sickly pale, the wound on her shoulder, wrapped with bandages, with a tint of redness on the middle from the blood.
"Oh my goodness," I gasp at the sight upon me. But Frida only rolls her eyes pulling me inside. The feel of her hand is cold against my skin.
I scan the large room, blinded by the sudden change of brightness. The large windows naturally brighten the unhealthy mess in this room. There are all sorts of stuff in here books, weapons, clothes, and even food, scattered everywhere.
Besides the infection on her wound, the untidiness of this place is, presumably, what's keeping her ill.
"Please make yourself comfortable," she groggily says as a throaty cough attacks her once again. I lift my foot, passing the stack of books and toward the dusty sofa. I sat without complaint; however, someone should certainly, clean up around here.
"What brings you here, Rose? I'm glad you're doing fine after getting hit on the head," she laughs, followed by a cough. She gives me a toothy grin, waiting for my reply.
"Yes, thankfully, the castle took great care of me," I softly say while my eyes darts around for a glass of water. On my right is a table where a pitcher filled with water stood along with two glasses.
"Are you thirsty? Have some," she motions for me to help myself after she notices me staring. I moved nearer to the table, pouring water on two of the glasses.
I placed one of the glasses in front of Frida, "you must drink plenty of fluid to soothe your throat."
"I'm fine," she moans but chugs down the water, "this sickness will pass."
"How long has it been?"
"About three days now."
I fold my arms, "did the lady who visited you do this?"
She raises a brow, her eyes glistening with wonder about how I obtained this piece of information.
"Ma'am Nora was pretty informative; she told me about it," I explain myself, and she sighs upon hearing it, "I told her not to go about telling people," she huffs in frustration.
"Who came here, who made you sick?" the worry breaks my voice.
"I don't know, but she was covered from head to toe, concealing her very self. She wanted to get ahold of something your mother gave to me," while explaining, she massages her temples with her eyes closed.
"Get ahold of what?"
"The bo-" she's cut off by a dry cough, making her eyes water from its harshness. However, she tries to finish what she's saying, "dus-"
"Okay, you have to rest. Don't try to speak," I get close to Frida, helping her get up from her seat as she continuously coughs. With gentle steps, I lead her to her bed, laying her down and pulling the covers on her.
I hadn't noticed the tears that are now brimming on her face. As soon as I did, it threw me off, inflicting pain on my heart seeing her like this.
"Wh-what can I do?" I panicked; sweat trickled down the side of my forehead while I watch as her throat continues to irritate her. Her face is already turning red, enough to send me searching for ways to calm her down.
I yelped in fright, startled by the door suddenly pushed open. I turn to see Jack, who barged in the room, searching for his wife and approaches us. He looks messy and sweaty from the tremendous amount of busywork he did downstairs, but he came to his wife's aid as soon as he heard her.
He opens the front drawer of the dresser beside the bed, rummaging through the clutter until he finds a small silver flask, "there, there dear, drink this to soothe your throat."
He twists the lid off, helping his wife sit up to drink the medication that's in the flask. She gulps it all to the very last drop, and her cough relinquished. Thankfully, she's back to her normal state; however, she's still sick.
The accelerated beating of my heart is now at ease. My breathing, I no longer hold. The sorrow I feel for Frida is filling my heart and mind, and the desire to help her is kicking my consciousness.