Rosalie Kasten is out of luck and out of time. For the last two years, she's been living on borrowed time. After her involvement with the death of Edwin Pierce - Alexander Pierce's son - it's only a matter of time before Hydra comes for her.
James...
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« 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆: 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 »
𝐑𝛐𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝛐𝐫𝐞. There's nothing but refusal in her. She looks away from Kate's body and then when she sees her again, she expects her eyes to open. It's her fault. Again. Her bottom lip keeps quivering, and she's so fucking drunk she can barely sit up.
Why the fuck did she call Kate in the first place. If she hadn't done that, then she wouldn't have gotten shot in the first place. If she had gone to the hospital, she might've gotten help sooner and not in some shanty apartment. It's her fucking fault again.
Rosalie doesn't make a mistake twice, and now she's gotten another fucking person killed. Why did she help Kate in the first place? Who cares about how long it would have taken them to get info on Hydra? It would've been better than taking the help of a nineteen-year-old who obviously wanted to prove herself.
She wanted to so badly.
Rosalie took advantage of it and used it. She feels gross, disgusted at everything she's done. There's a set of hands around her neck, slowly choking her, and each finger is a string of blame or regret, fear or grief, anger or hate.
How could she even allow herself the notion it was possible for this shitty hellhole of a world to have the kind of light, hope, and joy that Kate had. People like her don't stick around. They wait in line to be beaten back and spat at. Rosalie just didn't realise how she was pushing the girl to the front.
She can be so fucking stupid at times. Of course, James was right, and now, she has to live with the consequences of her own dumbass actions. If she had been less scared, she might have turned around in the car and looked at Kate. If she had taken a second, she would have seen the paleness on her face, and how she was fighting to stay awake. She could have noticed. Rosalie could have done more. It was her fucking fault.
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She doesn't know when she fell asleep, but she feels like shit when she wakes back up. James is still knocked out, and he's getting a steady supply of healing supplements. Stephen has removed Kate. Put her in another room, apparently. He said he took a look at the wound. The bullet had split inside, pierced other organs, and the internal bleeding was too much. He said they couldn't have done anything.
Rosalie has a bottle in her hand as she takes Kate's car back to Purpose. Cas is immediately bouncing around her legs, probably hungry. She pets the dog. Then feeds the dog and cat, but she can't bear to do anything else.
Her phone is lying in front of her on the kitchen counter as she stares at it. Rosalie knows what she has to do, but she doesn't want to. Fuck. Her lips are quivering again, and she feels like such fucking shit. Stephen had to clean the dried blood off her hands and arms last night. There's still some stuck underneath her nails. A reminder.
