Fifty Shades Of Rosalie | HS

19

Rosalie

Two more days and this high school nightmare would end. No more L.A. and no more Kyler.

I was just making it to the front door of my house, about to head out for work, when mom stopped me with the clearing of her throat. Uh freaking oh. What did I do?

"Rosalie Anne Davis," her voice was calm but her attitude was on ten by the way she quirked her brow and crossed her arms.

My eyes glanced at the rolled up magazine in her hand. She'd always been a magazine junkie, always wanting to find fake news on celebrities and call the journalist out on their BS and lies.

"Full name can only mean one thing," I smiled nervously. My gut was churning at the thought of it having to do with that magazine.

"At first I thought it could be anyone they were talking about because quite a few people have the name Rosalie," she began to explain, my heart accelerating with every word she spoke.

"Yeah, it's pretty common."

"But then in the corner I see this tiny picture of my teenage daughter and a supposedly world-wide famous boy band member outside of the coffee shop you work at. My daughter hugged up and teary-eyed on a man in Star Magazine."

"Really? That is just. .I am like ppsshh. Mind. Blown," I tried to play along, but my facial expression gave it all away.

"But wait there's more!" This woman is loco el pollo. "You see I actually read the article and rumor has it that this grown man hit you!"

And she went from crazy chicken to angry bird in .5 seconds.

"You told me you fell down a flight of stares and a book hit you in the face! And then you didn't stop at that; you made up a fake boyfriend to be with a freaking man who's abusing you?!"

"Don't say man like that, you make him sound like a pedophile," I frowned slightly. "He's only twenty one and he didn't hit me."

"I've watched a fair amount of LifeTime movies to know that you're lying."

"I did lie about Finn and the "accidents" but I'm not lying about Harry."

"I don't want you seeing him again."

"What?! You don't even--"

"I don't care if he did it or not! He's too old for you and it worries me that you don't think so!"

"It's only four years!"

"It's illegal! Everyone isn't as kind as they seem! They manipulate and tear apart the most precious things to make them feel--"

"Everyone isn't dad! You built brick walls up to protect yourself and now all you can see is that stupid wall! You don't see that you're keeping me from so many things because you think that I'm too naive when you're just afraid!"

"As long as you're in this house you aren't seeing or contacting that man. End of discussion."

"But he didn't do anything wrong!" tears pricked my eyes as the fear of being apart from Harry settled in the depth of me.

"Then tell me where the bruises came from."

"School, mom! I'm tormented every single day over there and instead of having my mom comfort me when I get home from a shit day, Justin stays for hours on end, catching my tears because you're more focused on getting a better job position than your literally beaten down daughter!"

"You told me you fell down stairs and a book fell on your face! I thought you were just off balance!"

"Maybe that's because it's hard telling someone you hardly see that you're being beaten and bullied. It's like telling your deepest darkest secret to a random person walking on the streets!"

"I'm standing with my decision Rosalie. You will not see this man."

"I'll make sure there's a freaking billboard with a picture of us making out and the caption being F.U.," without waiting for a response, I walked out of the house and slammed the door closed.

My vision was dangerously blurry as I sped down the street, trying to keep my tears contained. Fake news traveled like the plague and unfortunately everyone was catching the contagious virus. They actually thought Harry abused his mystery girl and it bothered me.

I swerved into a parallel parking space, not caring if I was straight or not. I fixed myself up and adjusted my ponytail to compose myself then entered the building.

"Sorry I'm a little late Cher, traffic was terrible," I lied. I practically drove on the sidewalk how careless I was driving, trying not to think about anything besides getting to work on time.

"Back room."

"I'm sorry?"

"Back room," Cher repeated with a slight mischievous smirk. Oh god, she's about to fire me for being late again!

"Uhhhh," I cleared my throat. "Are you firing me?"

"No!" she waved me off and pushed me in the direction of the back room where employees took a little break.

It was like a thousand knives pricking at my stomach and heart as my brain racked up every worst case scenario and played them over and over. My clammy hands finally got the courage they needed to twist the doorknob and open the door to reveal what would be no other than him.

And he didn't look happy either.