translated ♛ || a. griezmann

•vingt trois•

Rose POV

"We're out, we're out!" I hear Maud holler into her phone, as we rush out into the eerily cold streets of Paris.

We had escaped the Bataclan Theater.

We were in there for more than 2 terrifying hours.

I'm covered in debris and the blood of other innocent people. When it was really okay to leave the theater, I felt so sick to my stomach that if it wasn't for the urgency of the situation I would've definitely thrown up.

Bodies were scattered everywhere in the once grand theater, some people living their last seconds with the look of indescribable pain on their faces, before death welcomed them into its arms.

Maud's boyfriend had escaped as well, but we don't know where he went. All we know is that he has gotten out safely.

Almost immediately, Maud gets us a cab.

"Please," she pleads to the driver, "please we need to go to the Stade de France."

"Look at you two. You're covered in blood and dust. What about my seats?" The driver frowns.

"We literally almost died, and you're concerned about your seats?!" Maud shouts, "Please, I know my brother wants to kill himself right now and if we don't get to him soon, he actually will."

"Who's your brother?"

"He's Antoine Griezmann and if you don't let us into your cab now I'll be sure the Stade de France doesn't let you in to watch anymore of their matches!" Maud shouts aggressively

The cab driver raises his eyebrows before reluctnatly agreeing, and we clamber in.

The first thing I want to do is to dial my mom.

My phone is dead, though.

"Hey Maud, can I borrow your phone for a second? I need to tell my mom that I'm out." I ask seriously.

"Yeah, of course!

I dial my mom's number in, half hoping that she won't pick up, but also hoping that she'd be there so that she won't have to worry anymore.

She does pick up though, and it feels like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders.

"Rosé? Rosé? Oh please, lord, tell me it's you." I hear her plead from the other line. I have never heard my mother sound so desperate, the pain in her voice something I'm not used to, and something that I haven't even thought of before.

"I got out, maman. I got out. I got out," I repeat over and over, stumbling over my own words, "I got out. I'm alive. Maud is alive too. I'm alive.

I can hear her bursting into tears from the other end of the phone, although police sirens are blaring in the background.

"Thank god, oh Rosé you had me so worried," she cries, "where are you now?"

"I just got out of the theater, and I'm in a taxi cab right now. I'm going back to my hotel soon. I'll call you once I get back." I lie, knowing that we're actually heading to the Stade de France.

"Rosé please stay safe. Please. I can't lose you, not after I lost your father..." she cries, her voice shaking.

Yeah right, like you even cared about us.

"Yes I will. I promise you this time, I will stay safe." I tell her calmly.

"Please just come home soon," she says.

"Yes. I will. Don't worry about it. But I need to have time to myself for a bit after this all just happened. I'll come see you first thing tomorrow, alright?" I tell her.