𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 |𝟏𝟖+

𝐀𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

The drive back to Logan's house is oddly quiet. Rose types away on her laptop, trying her best to match Pawat's description with pictures she found online.

Miguel wines down the window and the cold night breeze fills the car, sending Rose's hair into a frenzy.

She ties down her hair and resumes her search.

On a normal day, she would yell at Miguel to close the windows but not today, we need the cold breeze to calm the steam building up in our hearts.

I lean in the car seat and rest my head on the corner of the window.

If Pawat was telling the truth that means he's been receiving orders since October, 6 months now.

Just how long has our enemy been planning, how well do they know us?

I shake my head and wipe a tear off my eye. Hopefully Rose matches the description with a picture online.

We arrive at Logan's house and Miguel carries the bag of weapons into my living room.

Rose slams her laptop on the floor and slumps face down on the couch. She looks annoyed but who wouldn't be in her position?

I pick up her laptop from the floor before carefully placing it on the table.

I plop down on the couch and rub smooth strokes on her back. "I'm going to bed," I announce while soothing her back.

She raises her hand as I stand and walk up the stairs to my room.

I open my room door and a somewhat familiar scent fills my nose. Logan?

Just as I'm about to enter the room I look up and notice the unfamiliar arrangement of the living room and the odd painting on the wall.

I close the door upon realizing I'm in Logan's room before rushing to my room.

How on earth did I enter Logan's side of the house? I need to get some rest.

I yawn tiredly I remove my clothes, leaving them on my bedroom floor.

I enter the bathroom and turn on the shower. It runs for a while before I get under it. I have a cold shower and for the first time, I spend time in the shower, pondering on the recent and unfortunate events.

If we don't get this person who's slowly sabotaging the organization it'll affect Father in the long run. Then it'll ultimately affect me.

Us.

I'll get some rest and speak to Father tomorrow.

                                      ~

"Leah," Rose calls out, her voice groggy and honey-like.

I roll on my bed and look at my phone. It's only 6 pm, why can't she leave me to have a good sleep?

"You sleep like you're dead." Her voice is flat but smooth. The alcohol she drank last night is taking a toll on her.

She draws the thick grey curtain that shields my room from the dim sunlight that threatens to fade away under the thick clouds slowly forming in the sky.

I groan and bury my face in a pillow.

Can't she let me get some sound sleep, knowing fully well I hardly sleep a wink?