A Girl From High Society

Chapter 32 (Final)

Rosé woke up very slowly: at first she hardly opened her inflamed, clouded eyes, looking at the familiar white ceiling, then, moaning, moistened her dry lips with her tongue, moved her hand and suddenly felt an unexpected pain in the wrist area. Squinting her eyes slightly down and to the right, she discovered that a catheter needle was sticking out of her arm.

But where does the catheter come from if she has never been put on any ivs? They gave her pills all the time, and she slept for days, but they were just pills, but droppers were not part of their arsenal, with which they kept her in subjection, drugging her to the top of her head. Why is there a needle sticking out of her hand, and where does this pain and ache in her whole body come from?

She turned her heavy, like a cast-iron head in the other direction, trying to focus her gaze on at least something, and when she finally succeeded, she was stunned: Kim Jisoo  was sleeping on a chair standing by the bed, curled up in an uncomfortable position. She put her hand on the armrest and her head on her arm, dark hair hanging over her face, almost covering it, but it was undoubtedly Jisoo.

Rosé realized that she was still sleeping. She dreamed of Jisoo every night, but in her dreams everything was not so — in them the girl came to her, as then, on the lawn of Park House, dressed in her beautiful revealing dress, her hair shimmered in the light of the moon, and the heels of her shoes were terribly uncomfortable, she smelled of champagne and even more Jisoo had a unique scent that reminded Rosé of the scent of young sticky poplar buds, and she stood in front of her, beautiful, seductive, free, and said something, but Rosé couldn't make out the words because Jisoo's eyes were shining so brightly... those eyes blazed with such an impossible light of love that Rosé tried to come closer, touch Jisoo, but her feet suddenly got stuck in the clay, and soon she began to sink into it, inexorably and slowly, until she was waist-deep in this sticky mud, and Jisoo stood next to her and looked at her as if she wanted to help but she couldn't.

This dream was dreamed by Rosé so often that she got used to it, but now everything was completely different. This terrible headache, this catheter, aching bones, unbearable thirst — in a dream she could not be so bad, thought Rosé and awkwardly sat up, looking around.

Now she clearly saw that she was not in her room. No, the ward was definitely a hospital room, but it was completely different than at the Birmingham Clinic — firstly, much larger, and secondly, it was an intensive care unit or something similar, and a beeping monitor nearby that recorded her heartbeat confirmed this.

There was no more strength to be in an upright position, and Rosé sank back onto the pillow. Where is she? Is it really not all a dream and why is Jisoo sleeping here?

She tried to move her arm, but this movement caused the catheter to shift, causing her pain, and Rosé involuntarily moaned. Jisoo immediately woke up, opened her misty eyes and, at first not understanding anything, looked at Rosé, still lying with her cheek on her hand, and closed her eyes again, about to fall asleep, but almost immediately jumped up, looking at Rosé with fright and anxiety.

-Rosé! Are you awake?

Despite her condition, Rosé couldn't help but see that Jisoo looks like a person who has just been released from a maximum security prison or... from a mental hospital. She had lost weight, turned ugly, there were bluish shadows under her eyes, and her clothes hung like a bag. There was no trace of the seductive beauty left — in front of Rosé stood a gloomy, emaciated girl who had aged by several years. And only the eyes full of tears shone with the same impossible light, and Jisoo looked at Rosé as if she had been walking in the dark for a long time and suddenly saw the sun, and that sun was Rosé.

-As I am here... turned out to be?- Rosé croaked and didn't recognize her own voice. It became like the creak of iron on glass, and it was painful to speak — it was as if gravel was poured into the throat.