If I’m complacent… he won’t hurt me.
“When you’re done with your breakfast… you can get cleaned up, take a shower, wash your hair, whatever you want to do. Get changed and then… we can talk or, if you’d rather watch a movie, we can. Or, if you’d rather try to sleep off your hangover, that’s okay too.”
Slowly, I nodded. Not knowing what to say, I chose to do things one step at a time.
9
Silas
Rosalie’s apartment smelled of strawberries and vanilla, much like a perfume she favored. I moved with precision; every movement was calculated, every breath measured. I had to be meticulous. One mistake, one overlooked detail, and everything would unravel. Rosalie was gone, vanished without a trace, and I had to make it look like she chose to leave.
Maybe it was a bit much, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, if my uncle became suspicious of me for any reason, I would be royally fucked, and that just wasn’t an option. There was no length I wouldn’t go, for her.
I started in the bedroom, the epicenter of her life, now a stage for my carefully constructed deception. I pulled out a pair of latex gloves. The cold material was a barrier, and a protective one at that. I left her room untouched, except for the teddy bear I knew she couldn’t sleep without. I grabbed her duffle bag from the closet, exhaling softly.
It’s a risk but… one I have to take to ensure her comfort and happiness.
I tossed a few of her clothes and things in the bag too. Only her essentials, such as her pointe shoes. I took her phone frommy pocket, wiping it entirely. Meticulously, at every angle, I then powered it off.
I made a stop in her bathroom, gathering her essential toiletries and perfumes. Her hairbrush, her lotions, her toothbrush, her makeup. Including anything connected to me or my DNA. After all, I wanted her to feel safe, happy and cared for. I loved Rosalie; that’s why I was doing this in the first place.
Taking the bare minimum would also make it seem like she chose to leave in a rush, like she wanted to disappear from this shithole town.
With my eyes narrowed, I moved into the kitchen and placed her phone next to a half eaten apple. One that I had her bite into just before I made my way here in the first place. The implication: a quick decision, last-minute getaway. I used tweezers to carefully remove any fibers or hairs that might be mine.
Next was the search for her passport. She had one from traveling overseas on occasion for international competitions. She also once told me she did a summer intensive at some prestigious school a few years ago.I knew she kept it in the small, locked drawer of her desk. Finding the key… Now that would take me a moment. From past discussions with Rosalie, I knew it was hidden somewhere in this room—she once mentioned a decorative candle of—ah, there.I lifted the candle and there was the key. I used it to unlock the drawer. The small click echoed within the apartment. The passport was there, along with a handful of other important documents, all of which I stuffed into my bag. I shuffled a few unimportant brochures around and left the drawer open with the key inside the hole to continue the rushed appearance.
I wiped down the desk, along with every surface and drawer handle within reach. I stopped, hesitating as I looked at the notepad and pen I found.
Should I leave a note?
The risk was high, but maybe I needed to just to complete the illusion. No. A note could be scrutinized—analyzed. It was too dangerous. My handwriting wasn’t close enough to hers. I would have to opt for subtle clues that could be easily overlooked but still could piece together the narrative of abandonment for investigators and, more importantly, the sheriff, my uncle.
I turned my attention to the living room. The small, cluttered space felt like a reflection of Rosalie’s personality—vibrant, chaotic, and full of life. Chewing on my bottom lip, I thought about anything else I could possibly be missing. The lobby had security cameras, but she typically took an Uber, or the lighting was too dark for the cameras to pick anything up. This town was old, and this apartment complex was too. However, if they checked the footage, it would be suspicious that I showed up today… I would have to make up a story, and I was confident I would have no issue doing so. Say I came by to check on her after what happened with her ex, and she didn’t open up, so I assumed she was sleeping and took my leave. Easy. A little white lie never hurt.
Now, where was I?
My brow furrowed, turning back towards the kitchen. I had to make it look like she wasn’t planning on coming back. No luggage, just the bare essentials.
I re-entered the kitchen, opened the freezer and pulled out the half-eaten container of ice cream. Grabbing a spoon I scooped out a bite. Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, her favorite. I took the container and threw it into the trash. Then placed the spoon in the sink, purposely where it could be found.
I checked the apartment one last time, ensuring the evidence was minimal, and the scene was carefully constructed. Pulling her bag closer to me, I left, choosing to go down the back stairway where I wouldn’t be in the line of sight as I took theback exit. Making my way out to the parking lot, I got on my motorcycle and drove back home to my house.
Once I was home, I disposed of the gloves, burning them in the fireplace. I washed my hands after, briefly staring at my reflection. I lifted my hand to fix my hair.
Everything is going to be just fine. No one will ever take her away from me, ever. I’ll make sure of it.
The next few days were a blur of forced normalcy and simmering anxiety. Work wasn’t as enjoyable without Rosalie there with me. Sadie was off work the first two days, but by the third day she came around asking about where Rosalie was. I told her I didn't know, and that I would let her know if I heard from Rosalie at all.
I almost felt bad about lying to her, but then I remembered Rosalie was safer with me than with her.
I reported Rosalie missing after the third shift she wasn’t at after Sadie had stopped by, playing the role of a distraught coworker and friend. I answered the police’s questions, my uncle’s included, ensuring my voice was calculated with a mix of grief and confusion. I cooperated in my part in the investigation, subtly steering the narrative towards the possibility of a voluntary disappearance. Emphasizing her desire for change and her tendency to act impulsively when upset.
I knew I would have to be patient and let the investigation run its course, but it didn’t make me any less worried that they would try to take her from me.
I won’t ever let anyone take her from me—she’s mine.
In those few days, Rosalie seemed to be getting acquainted with the reasoning behind me keeping her in the basement. She made several escape attempts, none of which worked, but it was cute the way she tried anyways. She tried everything, really. From attempting to catch me off guard, to trying to run, even resorting to throwing things at me but nothing ever worked, obviously. Silly girl.
