Runaway Rosie.

Five.

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?" I paced back and forth in front of the punk seated on the rickety, wooden bench across from me. This bastard claims to have seen my wife after she fucking left me, but he didn't have the answers I wanted. My jaw clenched and unclenched at the situation. How dare she fucking leave me, how dare she. After everything I did for her. Taking her in when she had nobody, paying for all the fucking shit she needed, listening to her stupid crying and whining over her dead family. This is bullshit.

"I don't know man. It was a few days ago. I don't remember where she was headed. Sorry dude." My blood was boiling, intensifying my rage even further, like a volcano about to erupt.

"GOD DAMMIT!" A loud cracking noise sounded as my right fist connected with the old wood only a few inches from the man's face. The pain, it felt good. It fueled me. I bent down, eye level with this dickhead.

"Just tell me, where the hell she was headed." My voice was venomous, deadly. He whimpered under my vehement glare, much like Rosie did when she fucked up like usual. Always so vulnerable, just the way I like them.

"She-she, was headed to a small village type place. Homes...Holmes, Holmes Chapel. Yeah, that's where she went, Holmes Chapel. I saw her during a storm, she was running down the road, kept looking over her shoulder. Paranoid, totally paranoid." Good. She knew I was coming for her.

-

"Roza, you ready to go? My Mum is waiting for us in the car." Harry asked, looking at me as I finished up the last of my breakfast. He had insisted on me eating two plates of his eggs completed with a biscuit and a full glass of milk. Ever since I told him about my past a few days ago, he had been there for me, checking on me every second, making sure I ate properly and was doing okay. Any external damage I had, was now completely healed and other than a few scars here and there, I was brand new. 

"Um, yeah. Let me get my shoes."

"Already got 'em, here."

"Thank you." I grabbed my new sneakers from Harry's clutches, quickly put them on, and followed him out the door. Harry climbed into the back seat and I sat up front with Anne.

"Hey sweetheart, ready to shop til we drop?"

"You don't have-"

"We want to. Besides, I don't you want to be wearing Harry's clothes the rest of your life." She chuckled to herself and began pulling out of the driveway, turning and heading into the town.  As we walked the line of shops, a small corner store sign caught my attention. 'BUY AND SELL JEWELRY HERE'. I stopped in my tracks and glanced down at the wedding ring still stuck to my finger. Get rid of it, Get rid of it, my mind chanted. Do it. Just do it Rosie. It's now or never.

"Roza, what's wrong?" I fiddled with the ring, twisting it this way and that, my full attention still on the sign. Just take it off and sell it. Do it Rosie! Take it off! You can do it. Get rid of it. It's no longer part of who you are.

"Roza?" Harry stepped into my line of sight, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Anne placed her hand on my shoulder assuringly, "Sweetheart?"

"Can we stop by there?" I asked, pointing to the store. 

"Of course." Once inside, we were greeted by a little old man in his late eighties. He was short, probably up to my shoulder, with snow white hair and thick rimmed glasses. His pants were pulled up over his stomach, exposing his high socks, and secured with a belt, while his blue plaid, button up shirt was tucked in. He had a pen clipped to the left breast pocket and a small green handkerchief sticking out the top. 

"How can I help you?"

"I uh, want to sell my wedding ring, please." Anne and Harry both turned to me, both seemingly shocked by my decision.

"Ahh, well let me take a look at it, if I could." I nodded, mustering a small smile and started tugging on the gold band. Come on dammit. Budge.

"Everything okay miss?" The old man eyed me, unsure of what I was doing.

"Yeah, just give me a second. Just gotta, get it off." I kept pulling, nearly breaking my finger in the process until it finally slipped off my finger, throwing my elbow into the person behind me.

"OWW!" Harry doubled over in pain, holding the spot on his stomach that I elbowed.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry Harry! I didn't mean to!"

"It's okay. I'll be fine, bruised, but I'll be fine." I smiled meekly at him and handed the ring over to the clerk, who examined it with fine curiosity.

"Hmm. Definitely something. Sorry ma'am, but, this ring is worthless. It's fake."

"Excuse me?" "I'm sorry, but your husband, gave you a fake wedding ring." How embarassing. Anne let out a small gasp and Harry just grunted his disapproval, still kneeled over.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." Tears welled up in my eyes and I bolted out the door towards the car. That bastard.