tainted dreams |p. parker ✔️

xi.

tainted dreams | chapter eleven
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this is so shitty and short, i'm so sorry that you have to read it
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The address that Nat had written on a small piece of paper was safely tucked inside the pocket of her jean jacket.

Rosalie stood exactly where her parents had last been seen: outside a semi-new apartment building, its entrance decorated with big plant vases and a security guy to match.

This will be fun.

"Excuse me, sir." The security guard looked her up and down, studying her. "I'm looking for a couple and I was told that they're currently living in this building."

The man didn't respond immediately. Instead, he continued to roam his eyes around the blonde woman's figure, a careful examination that was slowly becoming more and more annoying.

"Names?" He asked dryly.

"Lilian and Marcus Evans." She answered in the same tone, an arched eyebrow to match the sassy attitude. "I'm their daughter."

Said man raised his eyebrows as if to question the veracity of her words. When she didn't bulge or show any signs that she was lying, he gave her a nod and walked inside, making her sign a paper before allowing her to walk towards the entrance and the elevators.

"Marcus and Lilian Evans." He spoke, holding the pen and the paper she had quickly signed. "Sixth floor, first door to the right."

"Thank you."

The entrance was not as spacious as she had envisioned it. The elevator was right in front of her, a small desk by her left where she supposed the security cameras were hidden behind.

She didn't need that.

Pressing the small button, Rosalie waited for the elevator to arrive before entering and pressing the button for the sixth floor.

Breaking in was easy. Her parents managed to ignore every single advice they had given her while she was a child and left their front door unlocked.

"Idiots..."

Upon entering her parents' luxurious apartment, she realised that there was no one home. She would have to wait until they came back from whatever trip or journey they decided to take that day.

And she was patient.

When half an hour turned to two hours, Rosalie's legs were tired of bouncing up and down as she waited patiently on the kitchen counter. She decided that it was time to entertain herself and explore the house of the people that called themselves "her parents".

The walls were completely bare, no decorative paintings or pictures. No pictures of their daughter, the Christmases at her grandma's house. No memories at all, not even from the numerous trophies and medals she had won over the years as one of the most intelligent students of every school she had studied at.