Monday morning,I park the car around the block.
“I can go,” Rose says, from beside me.
“No. I don’t want you inside that house.” I declare. Whenever she is there, she only gets hurt. And I don’t fucking want that. Last time was enough.
“But—”
Reaching over, I kiss her to shut her up. It works because she goes soft against me.
Leaving her breathless, I caress her chin. “I’ll be out of there in no time.”
Worry swims in those eyes. “You shouldn’t be going. If my parents see you… they’ll be mad”
My chest tightens, seeing her concern. But I’d rather I get hurt than her.
“They won’t know.”
With that, I’m out of the car. As I hurry towards her house, I notice how in this neighborhood, her home is different. While the others have neatly trimmed lawns and blooming gardens, hers contain wild, long grass that needs to be mowed. The porchlooks old and rickety, its floorboards scraped raw and its stairs creaky. And the inside is as broken as the outside.
The house is the perfect reflection of what goes on the inside.
I don’t want Rose here. She deserves better than this and them.
Anger builds up inside of me and I curl my fingers into fists.
I need to stay calm.
In and out.
That’s the plan.
Going around the back, I climb to her room like the previous times I’ve done. Yanking up the handle of the window, I pull it up and slip inside quietly. The second I land on my feet, I take in her room. Everything seems to be glued to its place. Meaning, no one’s been here.
Taking light steps, I walk to her bed and grab her phone and charger. Next is her school bag and some of her clothes. As I stand in her closet, my hand freezes over her bra.
Now that I know how she looks without it, I don’t want to take it with me. But I know her, she’ll get stressed and I don’t fucking want that.
With a grumble, I take a bunch of her clean undergarments and quickly zip the bag.
I’m about to toss in her converse, when the door knob jiggles.
An icy cold chill runs down my spine. Not a single muscle moves in my body.
“I know you’re in here.” I hear her mother speak as she steps inside and closes the door.
If I move, she’ll know.
Silence hangs so thick in the air that I’m afraid even my breathing might be too loud.
“It’s better if you come outside.” She warns, and her voice gets closer as she appears in my vision. She’s dressed in scrubsand sneakers. Her uniform is wrinkled and has a small tear and her shoes are dirty and worn.
“I don’t have time to play games, kid.” A slight turn to the left and she’ll see me.
Kid.
Is that what she calls Rose?
Before I can think further, her head turns. Our eyes meet.
