Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter four
you don't own me
trigger warning: domestic violence, mild imagery of injury.
A loud chap on the door woke Rose-Marie from her feverish nap on the couch. The girl, having caught some sort of bug, had spent the better half of her week in this exact spot, being nursed back to health by Nathaniel who, at this moment, was nowhere to be seen.
Stretching out beneath her duvet, Rose-Marie winced as her muscles and joints burned, the throbbing she'd been experiencing all week quickly returning as her body finally caught up with her mind; waking up.
The knock sounded again and she could hear Nate shuffle in the bathroom. "It's alright, Nate. I can get it." She called to him, her sore, dehydrated throat rasping.
On the other side of the chipped white door, a pudgy old woman with dark auburn hair and ghostly blue eyes leered. She wore a poorly fitted, charcoal suit jacket and off-white shirt which were almost completely hidden behind the biggest bunch of flowers Rose-Marie had ever seen. Mini Sunflowers, Chrysanthemums, Freesia, Roses and more; the bouquet had the most beautiful array of flowers and colours.
"Rose-Marie Kennedy?" The woman spoke sourly, staring at the girl down the bridge of her long pointed nose. Rose-Marie simply nodded in response, her brows furrowing in confusion. "These were handed in to reception for you." The woman said through gritted teeth as she thrusted the bouquet towards the blonde. Rose-Marie hesitated, appearing lost as she gaped at the woman, the flowers and then back at the woman. Who put a stick up her arse?
"Thank you?" Rose-Marie said, cringing when she realised how sarcastic she had sounded.
The woman glowered at the young student, her jaw tensing. "For future reference, Ms Kennedy, I am not a postman; do have your men deliver straight to you and make sure they sign out at the front desk when they leave... regardless of how late at night it might be."
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Rose-Marie replied quickly, hoping to escape the woman's glare as quickly as possible.
The woman arched an eyebrow. "Hm, we shall see." She said tightly before dismissing the blonde and waddling away, down the corridor.
What a bitch, Rose-Marie thought as she closed the door. Wait. Did she say 'men'... 'they'... 'late nights'? Then, realisation dawned and Rose almost ran after the woman. Oh my god, she thinks I'm a swinger.
Pulling a small, yellow and white patterned card from the top of the bunch, Rose-Marie frowned; unable to recognise the handwriting. She read on.
Thank you for the amazing outfits, Rose-Marie. Gutted to know you won't be there to see us sporting them tonight. Get well soon, love! Missing and thinking of you, Rog x
