Chapter 21: Once Dead, Twice Injured
This morning we were planning to join Karl and Pascal in visiting Sebastien at the hospital. We were told by the doctors that he is going to live and that he were to return to Lacombrade Academy in two days. We were all excited.
Sebastien's room was located on the second floor for the seriously injured people rather than the children's ward. He was awake and reading a book when we entered his room. He looked up from his book and smiled.
"Is your neck okay?" asked his concerned brother. Sebastien nodded. "He can't speak because the cut sliced a few of his vocal chords. All he can do is write what he is saying until he's healed."
A doctor, one who wasn't taking care of the young boy, knocked on the door before entering the room. "Is Gilbert Cocteau and Serge Battour here?" he asked us. Serge and I raised our hands. "Good, because there are two people we want to inform you about. Gilbert, your uncle Auguste Beau is being hospitalized. He was found in a carriage crash at sunset yesterday. From the look at his injuries, he only has two days the most to live.
"Also to the both of you, the other person in the crash was a little girl named Carol Carter. She claims to know you. Fortunately for her, her carriage simply toppled to the side, but she has a great head injury. Therefore she only has a mild concussion and will live. Would you like to see them in a few hours? They need to rest for now."
Serge and I nodded. We planned to visit Auguste first, no matter how much I hated him. He's still my uncle. Auguste's room was a few doors down the hall to the left, right next to Carol's room. He looked up and stared at us.
"Look who's come to see me," he said coldly. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."
"Just because we hate you doesn't mean we won't visit you," Serge pointed out to him. "Do you know how long you've got to live?"
He tried to sit up, but the doctor pushed him down. We saw a large black and blue bruise on his neck that seemed to have run down his back. On the front of his neck was a large red scar. I remember how hard the metal on the doors and how flammable the carriage is; during sunset he turns a gas lamp on inside, so the cart must have caught on fire.
"A burning piece of wood smashed and broke Auguste's back," explained the doctor. "Breathing these heavy fumes have infected his lungs. Since his body has taken so much damage, that during the vivisection it seems that his heart has blackened. We have also found that a tiny splinter entered deep inside it and removing it will cause more damage."
God must have been waiting to punish him like this. His actions have been piled high until they were calculated to where, when, and how his death would take place. Auguste Beau, no matter how much I hate you, I still thank you for raising me.