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❝ 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰? ❞
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𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑴𝑬 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓
❛ kiss me beneath the milky twilight ❜
𝑅𝑂𝑆𝐸𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑌 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝐴𝐶𝐾 𝐴𝑇 her reflection and she had no clue who stood before her. Her body was completely still, yet her mind raced like the wind. The empty gun sat on the edge of the sink as the blood swimming in the water had finally disappeared. Rosemary had her victim's blood splattered on her face, but now she had a clean slate.
Rosemary couldn't comprehend what she had just done. She killed five people for Tate, to understand Tate, and here she stood, afraid of Tate and afraid of herself. Yet, there was still a sliver of admiration and desperation to be with him.
Rosemary's eyes finally moved away from her reflection and at the picture she had Tate that sat on her sink. She knew what was in his heart, the feeling he had when he killed those kids. It was a horrible, treacherous feeling that was tearing at her from the inside.
"Are you scared now?" Tate's voice suddenly spoke from behind her. Rosemary snapped around to see him, but he was nowhere to be found. Tate sounded like he was directly behind her, but there was nothing. Rosemary shouldn't be shocked. Apparently, Tate's a ghost.
Rosemary couldn't fathom what was going on, it was making her head ache as if a railroad spike was being driven into her head. Rosemary couldn't deal with this, she couldn't be in this house where Tate was trapped. She had school anyway. Rosemary grabbed her bag from off the ground and put the gun inside. She wasn't going to use it, she wasn't going to take it out of her bag, she just couldn't keep it at home where her parents might find it.
Rosemary could cut through her backyard as a shortcut to school, which she was ever so thankful for because she could not look at the bodies of those five kids. It seemed Rosemary had the sense to keep the murder weapon with her so her parents wouldn't find it, but not to dispose of the bodies. Her overwhelmed mind wasn't working cohesively.
Rosemary's hands were shaking the entire time she was at school. She could barely write a single word, it looked like the scribblings of a mad woman. Rosemary was dissociating that entire day-- she probably didn't hear a word of what her teacher's said. Rosemary had spent hours just staring at the blood on her hands throughout the night and she hadn't taken great care of herself. Rosemary had bags under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was a mess, and her hands couldn't sit still.
