1 || red hair and red roses

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red hair and red roses

red hair and red roses

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SHE WAKES UP BATHED IN BLOOD

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SHE WAKES UP BATHED IN BLOOD. 

At least, that's what she's supposed to think. Asleep in a bronze tub, Vivre Pevensie lies in a pool of chilled crystal-black water. Rose petals, each a perfect shade of red, lie on top of its surface, unmoving. Hundreds of candles sit on the marble floor around the tub. Each flame stands eerily still, unmoving. 

Waiting. 

And then - 

her cheeks, previously a shade of pasty white, flush with gold 

her eyes lids flicker 

her lips part in a silent exhale 

Vivre opens her eyes. 

Soft exhales, silver clouds rising from her lips. Her pupils dilate. She gasps. Rose petals stick to her skin and kiss her freckles. 

With both hands, Vivre touches her numb cheeks, her wet hair -  strands of ginger tied into a restricting bun - and at the pool water. She screams and jerks her arms out. The water splashes over the brink of the tub, snuffing some of the lights. The rose petals stick to her arm. 

Not blood. 

Vivre's gaze goes down from the petals to her body. Except for thin slices of black lingerie, she's naked from head to toe. 

"What? What?" She breathes. "No, no, no..." 

She grabs the slippery edges of the tubs and uses them to haul herself out. With her bare foot, she knocks over a couple of candles and steps onto the cold floor. 

"Who's there?" She screams to empty room. "Who's doing this to me?" 

Nobody answer. 

Torture? Murder? Some kind of sick game? Each possibility flickers in Vivre's eyes. She runs finger under the strap of her bra and takes a long around the room. No cameras. Nobody watching her?

Clothes. A cell phone. Get out of here. 

Vivre scoops one of the longer candles. She holds it up and notices that it doesn't act like a regular candle. No heat. No puddle of wax. A flame as still as photograph. Nonetheless, it provides her with a steady light and she takes it with her to explore. 

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