𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒

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She paced back and forth, sure her feet would wear a hole in the carpet. Sat on one chair. Then the other. Placed her feet onto the coffee table. Then removed them. Lay on the bed. Face up. Face down. On her side. Pounded, fluffed the pillow. Dropped it to the floor. Walked over to the window, with its verdant green vista stretching as far as she could fathom. Twiddled her thumbs. Walked over to the wall by the door and searched for some kind of lever or button-Jimin had said there was a television, after all-

"Oh!" she gasped aloud in surprise as her fingers stumbled upon a tiny switch in the wall, painted so that it blended in-without warning, the wall seemed to split apart in the center as a good-size screen emerged, blank and dark, with a small remote-control device attached to its side.

Rosé reached for the remote control and removed it, backing up and pressing the power button, before sitting in one of the chairs by the coffee table and flicking through channels to find the midday news channel.

Jimin's voice, casually cruel, ripping through her-

"I'll expect you to be able to make small talk about the news and whatnot with my colleagues and clients, if necessary."

A twig within her snapped. A string cut loose. She heard a heart-stopping, piercing scream, shuddering as the pure, inhuman sound flooded her ears, raising the hair on the back of her neck, before she realized she was the one who had uttered it.

Eyes suddenly blurred with hot, unmerciful tears, she lifted her arm; the remote flew out of her hand at a wild speed, hurtling towards the wall and bouncing off, its fall muffled by thick carpet.

Still possessed by that primal, wobbling hurt, she found herself walking, a slight stumble in her tread, over to the wall where the remote had hit.

Not even a scratch-

Nothing.

It was then that she finally allowed herself to weep.

Rosé breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the fragrant oils and washes she'd poured into the steaming water of the bathtub. Hoping they would soothe. Lavender. Mint. Honeysuckle... all blending together, cool and warm, sweet.

The water around her body a warm liquid embrace. A caress. Almost tender in its actions, though, of course, entirely without the intention to do so.

If she was going to be imprisoned in quarters with such a nice bathtub, she damned well was going to make use of it.

She'd foolishly promised herself that she would not cry. Would not let him win that way. To wound her pride-

Yet she'd cried herself to sleep on the floor, clutching at the carpet as if it would save her-

She inhaled once more, brushed a thick, wet clump of hair out of her face and briefly submerged herself under the surface of the soothing hot water, closing her eyes tightly, breath leaking out of her nose in tickling bubbles.

I'll come out of the water, and this will have all been a dream.

Only a dream-

Upon breaking the surface of the water she was only slightly disappointed, but not in the least surprised.

That bastard-