𝘖𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤- mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding
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She's never been outside of her house.
It hadn't ever been a problem until now.
But now she's alone.
The only closure she has is a singular lette...
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BOOM
The loud noise echos off the walls of the cramped alley and the man before me drops to the ground. Without anyone holding me up, I too fall. What just happened? My first instinct is to curl into a ball and hope I'm dead, but I decide that probably isn't the smartest choice. As I look over to the man who was assaulting me just moments ago, I see blood pouring out of his chest.
Blood.
Oh god. It's just like Momma... Before I can stop myself, I begin crying for probably the hundredth time tonight. I'm so tired. So many things happened in the span of an hour, and now here I am, curled up in an alley soaked in my own mother's blood without a shirt on and half-conscious.
Déjà vu fills me along with a new-found sense of dread as I see another mysterious man approaching me. Oh god not again. What does he want? With my luck, probably my soul. Apparently, this is too much for my body to handle though, as my brain slowly shuts down.
The last thing I'm able to register is a large blurry figure reaching out to me as my body is seized with tremors.
This is a comfy bed. I don't remember mine ever feeling this comfortable...
The memories choose that moment to flood my brain and my eyes shoot open. The room I'm in is definitely not mine, there's not even a chance I can gaslight myself into believing anything different. My breathing picks up and I curl into a ball. At least whoever took me, probably that man, put a shirt on me. He's got some morals, I guess. I wonder if he did anything to me after I passed out? Momma was so right, I simply can't trust people.
Lost in my own thoughts, I don't realize the mysterious man open the door and step in.
"Are you alright?" He asks in a slight Italian accent, and I almost laugh. Of course I'm not alright.
"J-just peachy," I say with a wobbly smile and a tear falls down my face. As he looks at me, probably checking for any injuries, a frown appears on his face.
"Did he hurt you?" The way he asks, no demands, with his accent flaring is gentle, yet it leaves no room for disobedience.
"Not really." I answer, a frown appearing on my face now.
"Why are you covered in blood then?" Oh, I keep forgetting about that.
"I- um Momma, she-she's dead." Thinking about the memory brings fresh tears to my eyes.
"Okay... can you tell me what happened?"
I shake my head, I'm scared, vulnerable, and not willing to bring myself even more emotional pain by explaining my mother's death to a stranger that took me from an alley. No thanks. Instead of saying any of that though, I decide on something a little less passive-aggressive.
"Who even are you?" As I ask this, I realize I haven't actually looked at him yet; I was too busy being traumatized. He's incredibly tall compared to me, which is not much of an accomplishment as I'm 5'2" (stupid genetics might I add). His attire is casual yet professional, a suit with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and a few tattoos can be seen on the skin of his exposed chest. His hair is a dark brown and his skin is an olive shade. And then his eyes, oh the eyes. They're a deep emerald green reminding me of The Wizard of Oz, a movie Momma and I used to watch all the time. I could literally get lost in his eyes if it wasn't rude to stare. Unfortunately for me, I have morals (something normal people seem to be lacking) and so I quickly avert my gaze.
"Excuse my lack of manners, my name is Giovanni, and you?"
"Oh, I'm Rose. Well, technically it's Rosary, but Momma calls me Rose." She used to at least, before she died. The thought reminds me of the sole reason I left my house in the first place. I need help; maybe Giovanni could help me? With what? Cleaning up a dead body? I would probably sound like a lunatic. Who knows, maybe I am one.
"Well Rose, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, would you care to enlighten me on why you were in an alley at 2:30 in the morning covered in blood? If I'm going to help you, I need a clear answer." Again with the demanding; it should scare me, but it almost makes me feel... comforted?
"Um, well I guess if you want to help me, we're going to have to go to my house." I say in an uneasy voice. I know what I have to do, it's not like I've got much of a choice.
"Why are you hesitant?" I guess he's more observant than I thought.
"Are you afraid of blood?" I ask which probably only confuses him further.
"No... why?"
"Are you afraid of um... bodies... dead bodies?" I can't look at him when I ask.
"Where are you going with this?"
"Answer the question please and I'll explain, I promise." I can practically feel his stare through the protective curtain I created with my hair (perks of having long hair).
"No, I am not afraid of blood or dead bodies."
"Then I'm going to need you to drive us to my house. I'll explain everything on the way."
