Chapter Two: Assisted Suicide
When morning came, Belle found that her magical friends, the clock, the candlestick, the furniture, the teapot- all of them were missing. Belle opened the cabinets and stuck her hand into silverware drawers, but no matter where she looked, she couldn't find them. The mansion was eerily quiet. Even the Beast, asleep in front of the fireplace, was not snoring as he usually does.
As she walked through the empty kitchen, Belle ran her fingers along the shelves, the tables, the canned foods; dust, dust, dust. She sighed, then sneezed. More dust was sent scattering.
"Rarf! Rarf!"
Belle turned and found the footstool dog bouncing happily on its feet. Belle squatted down in front of the animated object. "Hello there," she said, "Do you know where everyone has gone to?"
"Rrrrarf Rarf!" The footstool turned and ran, Belle followed at its heels. After touring through several hallways and two doorways, Belle was lead to a room that glowed orange from within. "That's strange..." Belle stepped into the room.
It took her a full second to realize what she was looking at: Fire. The furniture had gathered themselves in one great pile and set themselves ablaze, unable to cope with their immortal lives as objects. Clocks, plates, and teacups littered the floor. Candle sticks laid empty, surrounded by wax puddles. The entire household of the Beast's mansion had all come here to die.
"P-please..."
Belle flinched, and looked down; a broken bowl was speaking to her.
"Please help me...Please break me..."
At once, Belle felt angry. It wasn't fair that the bowl could get what it wants and she couldn't. Oh, how she longed to be torn and ravished! Belle reached down and picked up the bowl. With all her strength she threw it againt the wall where it shattered loudly into a hundred pieces. For a long moment, Belle simply stood and watched the way the fire danced.
"Rrrarf!" the footstool barked. Belle turned and picked up the stool and, without a second thought, tossed it into the fire. It yelped and cried like a real dog as if in protess. But Belle knew that if the footstool had a real mind of it's own, it, too, would have wanted to die.
But why did they want to do this? Did it have something to do with the rose? Belle surprised herself with her own thinking. She turned and left the fiery room, heading towards the West Wing to investigate. On the way there, however, the Beast blocked her way.
"Belle..." he said quietly, with eyes heavy and jaw set tight.
"Hello Beast." Belle replied. "Excuse me," she attempted to walk around him.
The Animal stepped to the side, blocking her. "Please wait. Listen."
Belle nodded slowly, her heart rate picking up speed. "Yes?"
"There is something you must know about me." Beast told her carefully. "I... Come with me. I'll show you."
Belle followed the Beast to exactly where she wanted to go. The West Wing.