𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓐𝓼 𝓘𝓬𝓮 [𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊]

21

"Let me up," Jennie gasped into the carpet fibers that held God knows what. "You're hurting me."

Rosé released her, stepping back and slamming the door behind her, locking them in. "Serves you right. When are you going to learn to trust me?"

She sat up, pulling the sheet more snugly around her, leaning back against the foot of the bed and cradling her hand. "Never," she said flatly. "But the fact is, I wasn't trying to attack you. I was afraid you weren't coming back, and I was relieved."

She stared down at her. "Never jump anyone, no matter how relieved you are, unless you're certain he/she's not dangerous. And you know that I am."

Yes, she knew. She'd seen her kill a man not many hours ago, and knew she would do so, again and again, without a second thought. The idea should have horrified her.
But she was way past that point. She was just grateful that she could kill to keep her safe. "Sorry," she muttered.

She'd been carrying a bunch of plastic bags and she'd dropped them on the floor when she'd jumped on her. She proceeded to pick then up again, not looking at her. "Sorry?" She echoed. "You're actually apologizing? What kind of drugs did Seulgi feed you?"

She should have known she'd mock her. "What's in the bags?" She asked, changing the subject.

She turned. She was sitting at her feet, not a good position, psychologically, and she tugged the sheet up higher.
"Supplies. Including some clothes for you. There was an all-night Walmart down the road. I know their clothes are not your usual style, but they're more secure than that sheet. And what have you got on your foot?"

She glanced down, having forgotten. "A pillowcase," she said sheepishly, pulling it off.

"Your feet were cold?"
She shook her head. "I was trying to break the window."
She said nothing for a moment. "I assume that's how you hurt your hand?"

She was an observant bitch, she thought. "Just bruised it a bit," she said, reached her hand up and flexing her fingers. Or trying to. They felt stiff and swollen.