Chapter 17 : Shikasta

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this chapter is so long, it might as well be a double or triple update in one day!
you're welcome 😂

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【 17.

Seventeen

Shikasta 】

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[ Shikasta • broken/defeated ]

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      ROSALINE SIGHS TO herself as she tilts the fork sideways, using the edge of it to slice the cheese-and-onion sausage, her nose instantly getting attacked with the smell of melted cheese inside. Smiling to herself at the creamy goodness that spills out onto her plate, she tilts the fork back into place and then pierces the tines into that sliced-off piece of meat before slipping it into her mouth.

Her eyes drift shut despite the initial burn of melted cheese and sizzling meat on her tongue. She has a sudden urge to smile to herself in pure appreciation, but holds back. For the past week she’s been staying at the hotel, she’s avoided any food that isn’t strictly on a need basis, anything that’s more to do with want.

But she’s out now, having needed to stop by any clothing store nearby to grab a few outfits. Rosaline didn’t take her car, not wanting to be greeted by the sight of all the supplies in the back seat that she was going to decorate their lake house in for Micah.

Instead, she used a car from the hotel that they reserve for driving guests to particular destinations within the city or even to the airport. She made sure to let the chauffer know she doesn’t want to go into the main part of the city. The last thing Rosaline wants is to run into more reporters or be on the receiving end of curious onlookers. Her stomach embarrassingly growled while the driver was helping her load the couple of bags into the car, and he smiled before telling her of a good place she can have her lunch at.

And so Rosaline ended up here, in this well-kept restaurant. She was browsing the menu card earlier, her eyes moving past the list of tempting dishes when an eerily familiar voice echoed in her ears; “You like the croissant.” — And her own voice responding; “Yeah. It’s okay.” — And then his voice again: “It is. Okay to enjoy it, I mean.”

Rosaline gave into the impulse then, and ordered for herself what her stomach was growling for.

And here she is now, not regretting it one single bit even though the smudge of guilt is there, lurking in some corner of her mind—probably plotting what time to appear and punish her for indulging in something that makes her forget she isn’t supposed to be alive.

His voice pops into her head again, in a completely different tone now. “You’re here—but Lia isn’t.”

Rosaline’s eyes fly open, the satisfied smile on her face freezing for a moment before beginning to slip off her face. It’s a slow death—the corners of her mouth no longer pushing into her cheeks, but drawing closer and closer until they fall back in a regular flat line. She wonders why her heartbeat didn’t flat line that night.

She flinches and sits up straighter, taking a sip of her water to wash away the trail of bitterness the thought leaves behind inside her body.

There’s a soft thud from next to her and Rosaline glances down sideways to see a purse that has fallen. She extends a hand, lowering her body to pick it up from the floor, before hauling herself up and making a move to hand it over to whoever dropped it.

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