The Bone Thief

Chapter Fifteen

i keep listening to Younger by Nightly and everytime i do, i have to start writing bc it reminds me so much of these two idiots

i didn't mean for this chapter to be this long, but god i just couldn't stop

i love them so much :')

but ily more so enjoy

Chapter Fifteen

Current Day

I have a hard time acknowledging the good things that happen to me, when I am so used to something terrible creeping up so closely behind.

The silence of a hotel was a luxury, and the fact that I didn't have to worry about Prosper keeping his eye on me was a miracle too good to be true.

He says he trusts me, I don't trust him.

I look around the lobby at every guest, every man, woman, or child. None of them seemed out of the ordinary, but that didn't matter. Prosper would expect them to blend in flawlessly.

Making it to my room, I kept looking over my shoulder, seeing no one, but not trusting what I was seeing

Did he know I picked this hotel? Probably. He always has men lurking.

I open the door to my room, and immediately lock it behind me. This is fine, this is exactly what I wanted.

But something kept gnawing at me, like there was a catch to all of this.

I walked to the bathroom, and unbuttoned my shirt, revealing an arm coated in dried blood.

I sigh, examining the torn stitches. I didn't have thread, or a needle, so I settled simply with gauze I had found in the hotel's medical box. There's no fucking way I was going back to the hospital, especially when Prosper has said he visited me.

When? When the fuck did he visit me?

After cleaning up the blood, and wrapping my arm in clean bandages, I go to the bed, and lay down. I stare at the ceiling, feeling odd. I know he lied to me, I know I'm here for specific reason, there is never a time he does something without reason.

I turn my head to the window, I had a grand seaside view, which I wouldn't expect anything less. This was a luxury hotel, this was fit for a Bone Cutter.

This is exhausting, and I'm tired of the rich.

The fancy lighting, marble flooring, fresh flowers on every table, I'm tired.

This was not my life, this was Prosper's, and that makes me sick. It would be different if I had earned it, but I didn't.

I sit up, angry, and not even sure why.

Everything feels wrong, simply because he's supposed to not be watching me. I know he's watching, but he's not supposed to, and so it feels wrong.

My paranoia haunts me, and throughout the night, I am left waking up due to the sharp pains in my arm, and the uncomfortable feelings of someone right outside the room door, listening.

When the sun appears in the morning, I feel like I can't breathe. I've hardly slept an hour all night, angry not because Prosper isn't watching me, but because I know he is when he shouldn't be.

I try to understand these feelings, as if somehow I'm disappointed that he didn't keep his word. I expected him to lie, but still, feeling the eyes of his paid watchers overwhelms me with a thick rage.

I throw the blankets off, getting up and slamming every vase of flowers I can get my hands on. By the time I'm finished, the room is coated in glass and pedals and I don't feel any better.