𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒
❝ They're the French Kissers,
that's what they do.
They will lure you in
and then they'll kill you
with a kiss. ❞
━ in which the leader of the french kissers
...
❝ Home's where you go when you run out of homes. ❞
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There was only one type of person Rose Salvage could not understand, and that was morning people. As a night owl who often pulled an all-nighter, she was offended by them and often found herself wanting to punch their morning faces. Mornings forced her to confront her conscience and the things she had done hours before, and if there was one place Rose always tried not to be in, it was her conscience.
Because while other people used the night to have dreams, Rose used the night to scheme nightmares. That's what she had been doing the past weeks, scheming and carrying out her latest nightmare, and has always, it had ended with blood on her hands. Rose did not enjoy killing; but she enjoyed dying even less. And in her nightmares, she was constantly doing both. That was the thing about Rose's nightmares, though – she only had them while awake.
Sadly, and since not even she was able to commit the perfect murder, Rose had to dispose of her purse in order to get rid of any traces and had now no way of entering the Salvage's house except by breaking a window and invading her own home.
The Salvage's property was a maison de maître located in the outskirts of London and surrounded by luxuriant gardens and imposing trees. The mansion had three floors and more rooms and windows than Rose had the patience to count. Its architecture and ambience immersed the place in a fairytale silence that contrasted with the noise and frenzy of London, but Rose's favorite spot wasn't the quiet stone benches, not even the stables; it was the fountain on the front garden with a statue of the Thinker, made by Auguste Rodin himself as a gift to the family.
That morning, however, Rose passed by it without a second glance and walked straight to the front door. She looked around for a rock until she realized it was Saturday, which meant her sisters would be home. Rose cursed under her breath; she had thought she might have time to come up with a lie, or at least get some sleep before facing her family.
Sighing heavily, she moved her hand to the doorbell before she remembered why she had such a hard time figuring out morning people.
Her older sister was one of them.
"Renée," Rose called, "I know you're probably on the other side of this fucking door, so would you fucking mind opening it?"
"Oui!" her sister shouted from inside, her familiar voice tugging at Rose's strings, "it's definitely her! If anything, the cursing gives it away!"
Not a second after, the door had opened swiftly and Rose was greeted by the lovely, morning smile of the oldest Salvage sister.
"Ah, soeurette, how I've missed your cursing!" She exclaimed, before pulling Rose into a tight hug that felt more like a lecture than a tender gesture. "May I know where you've been? It's been three weeks since we've last heard from you! Three weeks!"
