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...
𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭- cold and aloof; reminiscent of a marble statue
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Giovanni's POV:
I'm not supposed to care for people, it's a weakness. So why do I suddenly care for her? I don't know what came over me in that alley. I can't even blame it on alcohol or drugs because I was completely sober that night. Maybe I'm mentally ill.
I thought I could just give her a place to stay for the night and then we would move on with our lives. Apparently, I was wrong. Instead of thanking me and leaving, she asked for my help. Why would this girl ask me for help? She doesn't even know me. What surprised me even more was that I agreed to help her. Again, I have zero clue why.
Maybe it was the pleading look she gave me? That doesn't make sense though. So many people have given me that same look before and I've never hesitated to kill them. Maybe it was because I felt bad for what had happened to her in that alley? That can't be it though because I don't feel emotions. I refuse to feel emotions.
Either way, my impulsivity got the best of me, and now I'm at a random girl's crime scene of a house. The body and blood have obviously been sitting here for a few days. At first, I thought the girl murdered her mother, but that doesn't add up. She doesn't seem to be the type to murder. It doesn't matter what happened though, she asked for my help so I'm going to help her.
After glancing at the girl sleeping peacefully, Rosary was her name, I walk out of what must be her room. A quick call later and a clean-up crew is on its way. Wanting to look closer at the scene, I walk into the room next door. The woman has multiple stab wounds in her stomach and a bloody kitchen knife is nearby. Next to it, I notice an unfolded letter. Upon closer inspection, the letter has bloody fingerprints all over it. The contents of the letter lead me to believe it was from the dead woman to her daughter, the sleeping girl next door.
Rosary definitely didn't murder her mother. So what happened? Why do I care? So many questions, and so few answers.
Three hours later, everything is cleaned up. I'm assuming the girl would like to bury her mother so I had the body saved. Rosary herself is still asleep and I'm incredibly bored.
I know I shouldn't have snooped, but I couldn't help myself. While cleaning up her mother's room, I learned a bit about them. The mother seemed to of had a trust fund with enough in it to last both of them a lifetime. It didn't seem like either of them worked and the receipts I found were all from online orders. In the back of the closet, there was a small cardboard box labeled Isabelle Rossi. In it, there were only a few items. The first was a framed picture of the mother holding a baby who I'm assuming is Rosary. There was also a diary which I decided not to read. Lastly, a wedding ring with scarlet-red gems... weird. Something feels incredibly off about this whole situation.
My legs take me down the rickety staircase through the kitchen and into the living room. It's small but cozy. A fireplace in the middle is surrounded by a couch and a matching chair. Pictures of Rosary and her mother line the walls. What catches my attention though is that all of the photos were taken indoors. Not a single one of them is outside. Interesting.
I head back upstairs to check on Rosary when I hear movement. I find her tossing and turning in the bed while pleading for help. In that moment I do something I never thought I'd do; I take my shoes off and get into the bed. I grab her flailing arms and put them around me while I gently stroke her head. Her breathing slows down once again as she nuzzles her head further into my chest.
She looks so vulnerable in her sleeping state and for whatever reason, I have this primal urge to protect her no matter what. Is this what caring for someone feels like? I'm not completely sure but if it is, I could get used to it.
Who am I kidding, I would never want to endanger her; I can't get attached to her. I'll help the girl get back on her feet and then we can both live our lives the way we did before. Until then, I'll enjoy the moments I have with her. I'll take care of her. I'll make sure she has a stable life.
I look down at the fragile girl in my arms with adoration.
