Rosie White, an Art History student working to achieve her life goal of becoming a sought-after local artist. She pours her heart and soul into her art and dreams of falling in love. After Rosie lost her grandma, and with no parents in sight, she se...
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"Come with me, and don't even think about running away again." I taunt as I take a step towards her.
Her eyes are wide with fear, her make up is gone, her face bare now. I can see the lingering tears within her bloodshot eyes.
I can't stop the anger coursing through my veins as she nods her head gingerly, but I don't intend to scare her, I'm angry with her for lying and if my appearance is making her frightened, then that's how it will have to remain until I find out the truth. But I can't help but hate that look on her face, vulnerable and scared, of me.
I turn, making my way towards the end of the corridor and round to the elevator, I hear the sound of her heels behind me and know she's followed me.
When the elevator doors open, I turn and let her enter first. She walks through and I don't miss the way her body is trembling in fear.
When the elevator doors slide shut and I feel the movement under my feet, I turn towards her, to find her looking right at me with pure fear in her eyes.
"I was courteous and have given you enough time to gather yourself, now I want you to tell me the truth," I spit out.
When her eyes well again, I lean forward and slam the stop button on the elevator, bringing the lift to a sudden halt.
Her eyes flick between me and the button I just pushed, if I thought fear was written across her face before, now is pure terror.
I don't like that; I don't want her to fear me. I want her to understand I would never hurt her. I need to get my emotions under control.
"What do you want from me?" she sobs.
"I want you to tell me the truth," I reply, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to calm my raging thoughts.
"I, I don't know what you want me to tell you," She replies, a tear escaping her eye and falling slowly down her rosy cheek.
The anger dissipates at the sight of that, I'm making her cry.
"I want to know why you lied to me," I sigh.
"I didn't lie to you," she replies quietly, her arms moving to hug her waist.
I frown, "You didn't tell me the truth."
"That's not who I am anymore, whatever information you found on me is in the past."
"That's just it, there wasn't any information on you, on this Rosie White you claim to be, however, there was more than sufficient information on Rosaleigh Whitehall, that's who you really are, isn't it?"
"How did you find out?" she asks.
I take a step towards her; her body moves back before her back hits the wall of the elevator.
"I have my ways," I reply.
"What do you want from me Alexander?" she asks.
Alexander, only my father calls me that and I hate that she has the confidence to not even realise she's doing it. People know me, they respect me, that's why they call me not Mr Carlson, not Alexander, just Carlson. But not her.
