Belle Adams' Butler

It was the time of Winter, yet Belle felt a drop of sweat slide down her on back at the tension in the room. She didn't know how to comprehend the situation right now fully. He wanted to take her? Did he even know in what state he was in? 

"I am sorry, George," Belle apologized and the man frowned. As if not understanding what she was telling, "You must already know who holds my heart." 

George stood quietly, staring at her, "I know. Which is why I said it is not healthy. You know what he is," hearing this her eyes widened. Of course, he would know who Lucas was as George now belonged to the land of the dead, but she doubted he knew who he really was, "He is just like me, so give me a chance which we never had."

"You had all your time, but you never said anything. Don't try to spoil something that I have now with him," reasoned Belle, but the words she said didn't sit well with her friend, "Please, George."

"No," George refused, "I have loved you for a very long time now. Taken care of you and you're saying you fell for a man who doesn't even belong to this world. What difference does it make? If its him or me."

"Then let me be with him. It is where my happiness lies and always has been. Lucas has been with me, helping me in things and understanding without I needing to tell anything-"

"If it were Simon I would have thought about it. I didn't like Lucas, and you know that. Do you think nature will allow you two to be together?" questioned George and Belle furrowed her brows at these words, "You think it is that simple. You are a person who belongs to the realm of the living, and he belongs in the land of the dead. Dead and living can never be together. It doesn't work like that." 

"Why are you trying to court me then?" she asked him. 

George took a few steps around the couch he had been sitting. Belle had to make sure that she was having a right amount of distance between them, "Because I know you won't listen to me. You are not like the others, Belle. You do what you feel is right no matter if it is bad or good. I know you. I have always known you. If you're going to want to live with that person, then try it with me."

"That's absurd," Belle responded, "You are my friend, George. You have always been a dear friend of mine just like Simon-"

George had picked up a vase and threw it on the ground. His face contoured in irritation, "Don't call me your friend when I want to be something more."

Belle didn't know how to make him understand. But first of all, was he the same friend she knew or had he been corrupted in the land of the dead that he had lost his sanity. Lucas and Barron were not there, and she was trying to stall the man, buying more time but as seconds passed by, she doubted that they would be coming any time soon. Whatever was holding them back was taking a lot of time. 

She wondered how many other souls had bound themselves with the spirit to come here, to the land of the living. The living wanted to die, in the thought of having peace for themselves, but after they died, the souls craved back lives when they were in the land of the dead. 

"What were you doing before coming here?" asked Belle, trying to deviate their topic which George noticed, but he went along with her. 

"I was in Valeria. I told you, I was given the assignment to get a signature and sealings from the Lord of Bonelake," answered George, "I got on the carriage and came here."

"And before that?" Belle continued to ask.

"I was at my home, but before that, we had a case that we were working on. I found the black witches who are working together along with some white witches. I was going to inform the magistrate to speak about it but…" his voice trailed, and he looked as if he had turned to a statue for a few seconds before his eyes moved from the floor to look at Belle, "That can't be," he said in denial. 

"What can't be, George?" asked Belle. Did someone possibly kill him? "What do you remember?" she coaxed him. 

For some odd reason, his face was wrapped in sudden anger. He made his way quickly towards her, catching hold of her neck and pushing against the wall, "Stop making me think so much." He pushed her body again to the wall, and she tried to get his hand away from her neck, "Why are you giving me pain when I don't want to think on what happened!" he asked in rage. 

Belle could see the look in his eyes that said he remembered how he died. He must have died somewhere between his casework when he was on his way to the magistrate unless the magistrate was mentally a corrupted man who had killed George. 

"I am sorry," Belle apologized, and he pushed her away from the wall. 

"I am still here, that means it is not the truth, Belle. I am me, and you are you. I promise to keep you safe and away from harm," said George, failing to see that it was him she needed protection from right now.

"Let me fix it," Belle said. Even though George had caught her neck, trying to squeeze her life out, he was the friend who had indeed taken care of her. His death was not his fault, and he didn't know what was going on. 

George shook his head, "No, there's nothing to fix. Let's stop talking about it and get back to the topic of what I was asking you. Leave this mansion and come live with me."

"You are asking me to die," stated Belle and George took a second before he nodded his head.

"Yes. You are right. For us to be together, that is the only way to do it," he answered her. 

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