Over the years, Rose has learned how to be self-reliant. Her childhood had been lonely and unforgiving to Rose. However, she survived coming out the other end as a strong-willed and intelligent young woman.
After a series of bad choices, Rose's fami...
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Nothing that was what I felt. Not splintering pain or terror with a pinch of dread. Nothing, and it seemed more like a blessing than a curse. My fingers drifted on top of the bandage wrapped around my head. The blood wasn't caked onto my head, and I was well taken care of despite how awful the execution was. Whoever took me's intention is not to hurt me physically.
The room was relatively dark, and I was sitting on a bed you would find in a jail lumpy and set on a metal frame pressed against the wall. My head was on a nearly flat pillow, my neck not having the willpower to turn my head and look around.
"Hello," I managed to croak out my throat was dry, and my eyes burned with the crust from my earlier tears. Then something rang in my mind making me shoot up in the bed, the covers falling to my waist. I looked around for any possible signs of Dane. The bed on the other side of the room was occupied, but not from Dane.
Her body was turned towards me, her green eyes watching me like I wasn't real. The woman's face was beaten, and she had a black eye and a split lip. "Are you real?" The woman asked, sitting up her feet on the cement floor. I followed the coldness biting through the socks that were placed on my feet.
"Yes," I answered, keeping my answers short and steady. I had no idea who this woman was, but just that she is vaguely familiar. What confirmed my suspicion was the scar on her face that was an identifying mark. "You aren't like some guardian angel, are you?" I asked sarcastically, now trying to get answers.
A small grin tugged at the edge of her lips, but she kept it to herself when she grimaced in pain from the movement in her face. "No, but you have questions," The woman answers looking at me. I nodded my head yes in response. Who the fuck wouldn't have questions? Unless they had little care for their life and everyone else in it than they would be rendered speechless.
I wasn't going to act oblivious. There was a large possibility that I was talking to my mother, and I didn't know if I wanted that to be true or not. "Who are you?" I asked, looking at her. The bed she was lying on was more worn than the one I am on, signaling that she had been here for a while.
"Josephine," She said with a clear and steady voice. Josephine sounded so sure of herself that this was the conversation we were supposed to have and not form an escape plan. "And yes, I am your mother," She said with the same tone, although there was underlying pain in her voice. She was beautiful not looking a day over my age, honestly I wondered if being blessed by the gods was something that this family receives quite often.
"Why are we both here?" I asked, ignoring the massive bomb she just dropped. I could only handle so much. My heart might just beat out of my chest, and I wasn't trying to die before someone could kill me. Josephine looked me over, her eyes zeroing in on the bandage wrapped around my head before responding.
"Let's start with what you know. Did you go to the address?" She asked. Well, she definitely doesn't waste time. How about we ask where the fuck she has been for nearly seventeen years.
