Author: Tigertiffany PM
Roslyn never understood why everyone hated her so much. They would always look away from her weirdly, and it made her wonder what was wrong with her. But two boys who're dark and mysterious pulls her in like a magnet and finds herself in a world she never knew existed .Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Supernatural - Chapters: 5 - Words: 23,272 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 01-10-13 - Published: 12-18-12 - id: 3084090
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 1: Angelic
Roslyn stared down the thin blade sitting in her hands, inviting her to use it in her weakest moment.
She knew it wasn't the right thing to do, nor the desirable, but it would offer a release, something she'd been craving for so long.
She'd never cut before, but seemed easy enough.
So she gripped the blade tighter, pulled her quivering arm out over her bare legs and brought the gleaming razor to her wrist.
It hurt. Bad.
All she wanted to do was continue though. She was determined to show herself how in control she was. Needed it, even.
She let it scrape her skin and blood poured from the wound cleanly.
Shaking, she let tears form in her eyes while the stinging of her wrist started to subside. She threw the blade down into the trash can and laughed darkly.
She was not crazy, but in that one moment, she thought it was a pretty believable description what with the mascara running down her face and the "gone" look swimming in the depths of her crystalline blue eyes. Her lips were pulled into an empty smile as she started to realize what she'd done to herself. What the councilor had to told her not to.
Roslyn picked herself up off the floor, feeling the blood drip from her wrist to her thigh, and padded down to the bathroom which was conjoined to her room. She stared herself down in the mirror, taking in her skeletal features in the reflection.
She thought she was sort of pretty, but if she compared herself to the girls at school, she was just regular. Nothing stellar, or unusual. Her eyes were not the devious brown of their eyes, and her hair was not the bottled blond that was always pinched together in the most perfect hairstyle.
She was normal. That was it.
Her orangey locks fell just past her chest and it was always an uncontrollable mess. Sometimes she wished she were as perfect as the other girls with no freckles and perfect perms, but she wasn't, and it was a hard fact to let sink in.
It was why she'd allowed herself to cut. It made her different, and less ordinary.
Sighing, she turned the faucet on and ran the cool water over her wound. It refreshed the area, but the stinging started to come back so she quickly pulled her hand back and grabbed a bandage from the medicine cabinet and a cloth from under the sink.
Dabbing the wound with the now wet cloth, she felt the blood slowly leak from the wound and it tickled the air with its rusty smell. It was a hideous smell that normally made Roslyn want to throw up, but today she invited it.
When there was no more blood her wound could cough up (which didn't take too long because she was too afraid to cut too deep) she wrapped it in two band aids and wiped the tears from her eyes. There was really no use in feeling sorry for herself. It wouldn't do her any good.
She let out a ragged breath and tossed the bloodied rag into the waste basket to hide the razor.
When she realized what she had let herself do, she jumped, stared at the two band aids, and kicked the wall, frustrated with herself.
How could she be so stupid?
Someone would notice, and it would surely attract all the wrong attention.
As more tears threatened to slide, a banging sounded at the door.
"Rosy!"an insistent cry bled through the thin slab of wood and Roslyn felt herself sit to attention.
Her eyes looked as if she painted them black and it was pronounced with the whites of her eyes corrupted to a red. She looked like a raccoon.
"Yes?"Roslyn hissed, filling with self hatred. She had no control over herself, and her own stupidity overwhelmed her.
No wonder everyone always looked at her as if she were a bomb. They knew she would do something as extreme as this. Even Clare looked at her cautiously, and she was her best friend. In fact, her only friend.
All of Clare's friends didn't bother even acknowledging her, and Roslyn knew they were right to. She was nothing special.
"I need-"the voice cried, sobbed heavily, then continued,"please. Please open. I need to talk."
Feeling bad, Roslyn snapped out of her hate filled trance and opened the door for her brother.
He wasn't really her brother, but according to legal documents she was. He had not one drop of DNA that he shared with Roslyn and it showed.
He had the perfect chiseled chest of a jock, the tousled peppery blond hair of a surfer, and the soft brown eyes of a teddy bear. Really, if he wasn't her brother, she'd secretly crush on him, but since they were related, she could only despise his cold selfish heart and good looks.
"What do you want Winston?"She asked him as he quivered and stepped into her room boldly, making Roslyn's blood boil in annoyance.
Winston was his birth given name, and Roslyn thought it was been geeky and dumb. Honestly, she was happy her foster parents had no say in her name otherwise she feared it'd be something stupid like Urina or Shanaynay, or some other name that no one had ever thought of.
"I need some advice,"Winston asked, ruffling his hair and sitting himself down, uninvited, on her bed.
Hesitantly, Roslyn covered her battered arm behind her back,wound still afresh, and blinked uncertainly at her brother. "What kind of advice?"she asked, annoyed her sad moment had been once again overturned and deemed unworthy. Of course Winston probably had more easier problems to solve, but surely they were less harm-worthy.
"Girl advice,"he spoke with a small, innocent look at Roslyn. He always appeared scared and shrunken around her and sometimes it made Roslyn not only wonder why, but sad. It was always the same look with everyone. It was like she was a monster, even though she knew she'd never hurt a fly.
"Okay,"she sat next to him and he shrank down even further, visibly scooting a bit away from her. She sighed at him, before returning the favor and scooting farther away from him.
He visibly relaxed and let out a breath she never realized he was holding.
"So you know Valerie?"he spoke rushed, as if he knew he wanted to get that answer quickly. He must've really liked her for such a reaction. She never saw him like this. Hell, he never even tried to ask her for advice.
Roslyn nodded her head, suddenly feeling tense and guarded.
"Yeah,"she spoke, her gaze traveling to him.
But he was looking at her. Not at her eyes, just at her. Her arm to be exact.
Roslyn slipped the arm with the bandage under her thigh, wincing in pain as she pressed the wound down and felt a bit more of the blood rush out.
Caught off guard, he turned to look her in the eye and asked,"what happened there?"
It was the only thought Roslyn was able to process before her mind was blurred with possible excuses. Then, when she was grasping one by the tail, it sped off and her mind went blank.
"I was cutting up some papers and accidentally nicked myself,"she said only semi-confident with her answer. But before he could ask any more, she gestured for him to go ahead. "What about Valerie?"
He snapped out of it and shook his head as if to clear the thoughts in his head. "I like her, but I'm too nervous to ask her out."
Winston was not a wimp. Well, not that Roslyn knew of. Sure he acted antsy in her presence, but he was really just the cocky movie material popular hot boy at school. It was really a cliche, but it wasn't like it wasn't true.
"And I want you to ask her out for me,"he stated, an edge of confidence creeping to the surface with that one statement. It made Roslyn feel a bit intimidated by him, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her, no matter how hurtful his teasing was sometimes.
"Okay," she shrugged at the offer, realizing he hadn't expected her to say yes when clear impotent shock crossed his face for the next five seconds. Unable to snap out of it, Roslyn allowed him to sit there with his mouth hung open and his eyes wide.
"Thanks,"he cowered, picking himself up off the bed and starting towards the door. Roslyn could've sworn she saw doubt cloud his features for just a second before a newfound confidence burst forward over his face. He strode out, Roslyn following close behind before she took a detour and headed downstairs at the sound of the doorbell.
Opening the marvelous French door paned with a clear textured window, Roslyn saw Clare sitting in her little Beetle in the driveway. Typical girl never waited for someone to open the door. As soon as she tolled the chimes to signal a visitor, she'd go right back into her rather feminine pastel yellow Beetle and wait there.
But Roslyn reminded herself of the moment where looks at herself in the mirror and saw her raccoon eyes thanks to tears and the ever-smudged makeup carefully applied to her face every morning before school.
Roslyn prided herself on how well she could work her eyeliner and brushes, and going out with two black eyes wasn't something on her to-do list.
Bringing out her phone and running upstairs to fix her face and the tumbleweed on her head, she texted her friend that she'd be there after she deemed herself worthy of the eyes of other people. They already had one reason to be afraid of her, why should Roslyn give them another?
After she slung on a clubbing outfit, had wiped off her school makeup and reapplied it (this time she make cat eyes with eyeliner, carefully applied a smokey eye effect, and colored her lips a bright cherry red) she thought she was ready to go to her first ever club. But she had to find those damn shoes...
After rummaging through her closet and pulling out everything she had just to get to the pumps, she finally found them and stepped back, readying herself on the bed to stick them on.
As she got up and walked a snappy test run, she started towards her door, her ankle getting caught at something on the floor and tripped.
There was a box there carefully tied with a bold crimson ribbon that Roslyn knew very well about. This was the box that had held her from cutting herself in the past, as ridiculous as that sounded.
Well, it wasn't he box itself. More of what it contained that made Roslyn's heart leap uncontrollably.
Letters. Little love letters that had always been scrawled by an anonymous source marked with a single signature. An 'D' that always caught her breath in her throat.
Oh how she always loved the little notes scribbled onto the parchment in ink. It was formal and regal, but held a certain charm to it.
Her most recent was two days ago. It had told her the wait was almost over, and she couldn't wait for the mystery person to gather the courage to ask her out already.
Heart swelling, Roslyn picked up the box and carefully placed it back in her closet on the top rack where the rest of her shoe boxes lay. It would've been hard to reach if she wasn't abnormally tall, but she was, it was easy to stick the box into its assigned area under the giant teddy bear she'd won at the fair two years ago. Then she bolted, remembering her friend.
As she neared the car which rumbled in ignorance to the peacefulness around it, she saw Clare poke her head out and shake it at Roslyn.
"I now know why guys always complain when girls have to get ready,"she teased, hesitance buried deep under a mound of exuberance. She was excited to go clubbing today.
We had one of her friends make them fake ID's to sneak in, and he'd done wonderfully. Roslyn herself was pretty pumped herself.
She laughed, opened the door to the car, and sat down in the passenger seat after Clare cleared the pile of McDonalds bags into the back.
Clare was curvy and was short compared to Roslyn. Her eyes were a pretty jade green color and her hair was always a straight brown. Roslyn was sometimes very envious of her, but she pushed those feelings aside because she knew Clare was truly a gem. For one, she dared to be friends with her, and for two, she was always professing how much she wished she like like Roslyn.
Roslyn needed the ego boost, so Clare was like an essential dose of confidence.
"We'll I'm sorry I like to look good,"Roslyn shot back playfully as her friend revved the engine of her flowery car and glared sneakily at her. Then she sped off, sending her friend a wicked smile.
"It's not like you need makeup to look good. I saw your middle school pictures. They looked like effing photo shoots where happening at the school.
Clare also always teased her about how she could be a model because she was so tall, and it sometimes unnerved Roslyn. She knew her friend was feeding her compliments, but why? Was everyone that scared of her?
Roslyn didn't answer. She sat in the car in silence as her friend started to worry. She quickly tried to make idle chit-chat, which failed thanks to Roslyn's sudden unsocial abilities starting to kick in.
She felt something strange in the pit of her stomach, but nothing could point her to why she felt like that. She'd barely eaten today, as always, but it wasn't like a hungry grumble. It was more the worrisome type.
As the pair stepped out of the car (which stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot of far more expensive cars) they were quick to find the line into the club quickly being granted entrance. It must've been lucky, but when they saw three guys being tossed out of the line with mischievous smirks that read damn-we-almost-made-it , she started to wonder if the bouncer would see through the facade and toss them out just like the three boys.
But when they did get past security, Roslyn saw Clare smile victoriously as she proudly stepped over to the bar with her wad of cash under her arm in a clutch.
Roslyn had better intentions than getting drunk, but she headed over to the bar anyway. She didn't want to be alone in such an intimidating club. Couples gyrated on the dance floor and colorful strobe lights made everything seem like it was in slow motion in its neon haze.
"Want something?"Clare asked her,"I'll buy."
Roslyn shook her head, wondering what she'd get grounded from if her foster parents ever found her walking into the house after a late night with a beer bottle in hand, eyes glazed over because of her drunken state. Well, whatever punishment they could deal out, she was sure it would be brutal.
Roslyn turned her head away from the bar and sat herself in the position to look out over the dance floor. Already she was bored, but her friend seemed to be giddily ordering herself drinks.
"No thanks,"she answered Clare as she took her first shot of Vodka, face souring as it poured down her throat.
"Ok your loss."
Roslyn tuned her friend as she searched the crowd. Maybe she could find someone decent to dance with.
Then she found a boy in the corner of the club, huddled over a girl who looked very uncomfortable. Roslyn knew she shouldn't have, but when she saw the boy clamp his hand over her mouth when tears started to slide down her desperate face, she jumped up and raced through the crowd to the girl.
Roslyn could hear her friend call her, confused, but she knew what she was doing. Sort of.
Standing behind the boy, Roslyn puffed her chest up, trying to tell herself she could intimidate this guy to go away just like she's able to do at school. Unintentionally, of course, but it scared them away for sure.
"Let go of her,"she growled at the boy as he settled his face at her neck and she shuffled uncomfortably in his arms.
He spun quickly, staring Roslyn down with a hungry glare. All of what she planned backfired there as he pressed Roslyn up against the wall lightning fast, letting his last victim crumple to the ground in exhaustion.
Now it was Roslyn's turn to kick and scream, but when she opened her mouth to let out even the loudest, bloodcurdling scream, it was cancelled out by the booming music.
"Ah,"the boy whispered seductively, licking his lips,"a dark soul."
What had she done?
"Back away from her,"a voice seized the air around them and the boy stiffened, uncomfortably pressed up against Roslyn as she struggled to get away.
Roslyn looked up at the same time the boy turned to look behind him, giving her the perfect opportunity to kick him right in the jewels and scurry off behind the boy who'd come to save her. His well defined body made her feel safe, and he just radiated protectiveness. It made her feel better...less scared.
"Let's go before he gets back up," this new boy said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the back of the club.
What was he doing? Was he trying to pull her off for himself to ravish?
Feeling slightly scared of this new boy, she couldn't help but wonder why he even wanted to save her in the first place.
Roslyn wriggled herself out of his grasp right before they left the club through the back exit, clearly lit by a green signal.
"I refuse to go home with you,"she proclaims, staring into his face for the first time. He was beautiful, really.
She stood mouth agape for a second as she took him in. He was muscled, but not so much that it was gross and his face held eyes that sparkled like twin sapphires and a mouth pouted together in slight annoyance. He was like an angel, it was all Roslyn could think of as she looked at his perfectly proportioned face, and if she was an artist, she'd try and draw him because he would make the most perfect portrait.
"You don't really have a choice. He's smelt your blood and will try to come after you if you don't leave right now,"he shook his head in frustration and tried again to pull Roslyn off. This time, she felt herself give in and she followed him obediently.
She knew there was truth in his words, but she couldn't make sense of them.
Blood?Was it her cut?
Her eyes traveled down to her arm which was firmly clasped in the strangers warm hand. The two band aids were slowly starting to peel at the edges and blood did travel in a thin, crusted line to her palm where it abruptly stopped in a small design if it own.
But the strange boy gripped her hand tighter and the design dissolved under skin and darkness.
She furrowed her eyebrows and let the boy pull her to a luxurious Maybach.
Roslyn couldn't find words to ask about the car. The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins like blood. Her ears pounded and her heart thumped as he pushed her into the car's passenger seat.
Was he going to sell Roslyn off for money? How else do you pay for a car worth so much?
"What's your name?"Roslyn asked as he quickly drove out of the clubs parking lot. He was speeding for sure, but the woods engulfed the car fast, meaning he was taking a back road instead of the highway. No one took the back road, so she instantly wondered why he would want to go through several trees that cast a shadow of their own, even under the dim light of the moon.
Roslyn saw his jaw unclench and he gulped. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down before he turned to her with a smile that made her cheeks flush.
"It's Dillon,"he answered, eyes turning to look back at the road immediately.
Unable to help it, she studied the outline of his face as he sped through the back woods. Every curve was smooth and perfect, and the tiny amount of stubble was visible now. She hadn't seen it under the clubs strobe light, but it made him handsome in a clean cut way.
"Okay,"she answered awkwardly. It was was rare anyone tried to make conversation with her, so she didn't have much practice. Everything that seemed to come out of her mouth was very unpracticed and made her seem almost childish in nature. "My name's Roslyn."
She watched his rose red lips turn up in a smirk at the name and she felt herself blush. He must like my name, she thought.
Roslyn liked him. Not because he was handsome or anything, but because he was the first person she'd met that didn't seem taken aback by her. She hoped he liked her back and wanted to hang out more. It would make her feel like she had a real friend. Not that Clare wasn't, it was just her tendencies to seem so spiteful and scared of Roslyn.
He turned to look at her again and revealed the whole smirk to her. Her blush deepening in color, she turned to look out on the road.
"Your name is very unique,"he commented, nodding his head once as if to affirm he meant what he said.
Roslyn didn't know how to reply. She sat there and let the tension build, unable to break it down. No one besides Clare tried to make-
Panicking, Roslyn's eyes widened in realization. She left her only friend-her best friend-in a club while she drank the night away. Who knew what could happen to her?
"We have to go back!"She yelled, looking through her bag to find her phone.
"We can't do that,"he smoothly replied, lips twitching in amusement.
Roslyn almost hit him out of frustration, but she held her own, trying to complain. "I can't leave my best friend in there! She'll get drunk and probably will crash driving home!"
Shaking his head, he said,"she will have to hold her own for right now. If we drive you back there you'll be in serious danger."
She grunted angrily, and sat in Dillon's car, pouting. She once again had no idea how to respond to him. It was ludicrous for him to even suggest someone underage get drunk in a club by theirselves with no one around to help them.
But then again, she didn't want to be put in danger, and something in her trusted Dillon, so who was she to fight him? If he said she was in danger if she went back, she was in danger.
"You look young to be in a 21 and older club,"Roslyn started, trying to cut away some of the tension.
He relaxed a bit,"I am. I'm seventeen."
He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, alleviating the tension like magic. There was a sparkle there that surprised her, but at the same time, invited her to say something else. To ask him something.
"And what about you? You seem pretty young yourself,"he commented, raking a hand through his perfect chestnut brown hair, fluffing it up and making a tiny coif.
She bit her lip uneasily,"I'm sixteen."
He nods his head,"You don't look sixteen. You look older...So how'd you get in?"
She shifts in her seat, suddenly unable to confess her friends' job well done. Really, she knew a fake ID was nothing to be ashamed of, but she couldn't let the words spill from her mouth. Especially with the pressure he allowed as he stared, curious, as her.
"ID,"she whispered,"fake ID."
He chuckled lightheartedly, then proclaimed,"me too."
She didn't answer him after. That subject, for some reason, put her off. She only wanted to feel comfortable around him, especially since he was the only living soul she knew that didn't seem uneasy around her, as that was a great feat Roslyn knew at should treasure.
Suddenly remembering the phone in her limp hand, she turned it over to face the screen. She unlocked it and texted Clare, asking if she was okay.
But before she could press send, a call came through, sending the jingling tune of her ringtone and a buzzing in her hands.
Pressing answer, she put the phone against her ear and waited for the person to answer.
"Hay Rosin,"a feminine voice slurred through the line loudly and lazily. Then she heard a obnoxiously stuffy sniff and pulled it away from her awaiting ear as if she were in danger of a snot explosion. "Where ya go?"
Clare. Roslyn sighed in relief, feeling a knot in her chest loosen. She was okay and still alive. That...that thing she'd encountered in the club hadn't touched her friend and she was safe.
"Oh my gosh,"Roslyn exclaimed worriedly,"are you okay?"
There was an eerie silence in the background, then a voice that murmured something in a deep voice. Roslyn stiffened.
"Where are you?"she asked, sucking in a breath to hold.
"I saw Tristan at dar club and he's taking me home,"Clare's voice had dropped an octave and Roslyn grabbed a sort of seductive vibe to her words. Oh no, Roslyn wouldn't let Tristan, a boy who's been caught with one to many girls before, take advantage of her.
"Give Tristan the phone,"Roslyn ordered in malice. She knew if she scared them enough, they'd listen to her and make sure it happens the way Roslyn wanted.
Clare squeaked, then hiccuped.
"Hello?"A sober voice accompanied by a twinge of fear sounded through the reciever and Roslyn growled lowly. It was more of a strangled guttural noise, but she was sure Tristan got the message when he winced.
"Don't touch Clare. Send her straight to her house then leave,"she demanded. She had the phone in a death grip, her knuckles white and her fingers held the tingling sensation of numbness. Roslyn glared out the window in feirceness before adding,"And I swear, if you lay a finger on her I will personally kick your ass."
Roslyn barely knew how to throw a punch, much less kick ass. She was rather secluded and never had any reason to beat someone else up. Even if the opportunity presented itself.
But scarily, Roslyn knew she was dead serious. You could hear it in the threatning tone that held not one bit of humor.
Dillon sent Roslyn a worried glance as he turned the corner into the first sign of civilization. A road sign that told them in glittering white letters,Gas station; two miles.
Then another that zipped by quickly right after they passed the Chevron gas station. Roslyn caught the words though. Now leaving Hillsburg.
They were leaving town?
Roslyn might be in more trouble than Clare. At least Clare knew her captor personally. Roslyn knew nothing about Dillon besides the fact he was seventeen.
And with the last mutter of,"good,"Roslyn hung up, pressing the end button and abruptly ending that conversation. She just prayed her friend was now in somewhat good hands.
Now focused on her own situation, she turned to Dillon, focusing in on him through slitted eyes, analyzing him.
"Where are you taking me?"she snapped, adding more viciousness to her words. At this point, she wasn't too scared about losing Dillon. If he was going to kidnap her, she wanted him to be all but comfortable around her.
Yet oddly, he just smiled, not a trace of unease on his face. Even his body language said he was cool and relaxed, and Roslyn couldn't help but feel slightly secure.
"We have to stop at my house,"he said in a soothing tone that seemed to come naturally. His words sent a shiver down her back.
"Why?"she demanded, sending him an intimidating death glare that she only partly meant. He seemed too kind, and it set Roslyn into a state of questionable ease.
He shifted his arm to fit his hand over the gear stick, ignoring her question as he pulled the car over at the side of a small cabin surrounded by the tall pine trees, covered in a thin veil of fog that floated around outside the car like a ghost, daring Roslyn to be afraid of it.
The cabin itself captured her attention the most and made her completely forget of her question. It was made of thick, brown logs that were unevenly cut and metal wiring rung around it to make a sort porch. There was nothing noticeable otherwise besides the sort of aura it gave off, but Roslyn thought it was a reflection of the reddish brown roof and the little light streaming through the trees from the moon. It was beautiful but strangely had no windows.
"Come on,"Dillon gestured her outside with his hand before he opened his door and slid out. His movements reminded her of a snake. Slow, slithering, and graceful, but she couldn't help but watch him move towards the porch of the cabin without even waiting for her.
She took a deep breath and noticed another car parked halfway behind the
cabin, barely visible under the fog that hung low, kissing the ground with moisture. The car was a Ford. She could tell just by squinting and carefully looking at the cars rear. She saw the small emblem glinting in the darkness at her.
She stepped out and her feet met the pine filled ground with a crunch. Her body chilled when she made contact with the fog for the first time. It was alarmingly cold, even for a winters night.
She slowly padded to the front of the house, hugging herself and rubbing her arms to produce heat in the chilled night. Her teeth were begging to chatter, but she didn't allow them to.
Stepping over the threshold into the small cabin, she spotted Dillon in a small kitchenette that look unusable in more than one way.
Roslyn noted the absence of any kitchen utensil, pot, or pan. There was no stove, or fridge, but there was a toaster that looked aged with the dirt and primitive design.
Dillon wasn't the only one there though. There was another boy with a halo of golden hair and a girl with similar looks, but they all had the same brilliant colored eyes. The only differences were the shapes of their face, and in Dillon's case, the stark contrast in hair colors.
The girl looked at Roslyn and she stiffened. It seemed that everyone was already tense, and they'd been in a heated argument that she'd clearly interuppted. Oddly, she hadn't heard anything before she'd entered the room, and they couldn't know she had entered the house because even she couldn't hear herself and it was eerily quiet.
This girl's hair was glowing in the flourescent lighting and it was cut pixie style. Her eyes were peircingly blue and analyzed Roslyn in a squint. She was very pretty, and made Roslyn feel even more intimidated and normal than ever.
Just being in there presence made her feel unworthy, and as much as she wish it wasn't, the urge to cut was at an all-time high.
Then, as if she'd heard her thoughts, the blond girls eyes flicked to the bandaged wrist and asked,"What happened to you?" She had nodded her head to the cut.
Roslyn tried her best to appear comfortable, but she felt her long legs shift uncomfortably and she pulled the arm behind her back. Because of the blood had been wet long enough on her skin, stuck under a bubble produced by the bandage, it had started to peel and Roslyn could see the thin slit in her skin, so close to her vein.
"What are you talking about?"Roslyn accidentally said in a challenging voice that was meant to sound curious and innocent. Her shoulders broadened and she prayed the girl couldn't decipher the accidental change in meaning.
"Chesire, chill,"Dillon chastised, pulling on the girl's shoulder. She shrugged him off and kept her distance from Roslyn who could feel her knees beginning to quake. "That's Roslyn."
"Roslyn,"Chesire purred with a glare torwards her. Her voice was hard and calculating, but she untensed slightly, as if knowing her name made her more secure.
Did she...know something Roslyn didnt?
The other boy shifted to look at Roslyn and the lights caught on his hair and sent shades of vermillion to spread over the strands like a plague. His bright blue eyes squinted at Roslyn, but she looked away before she saw any signs of hate, or fear. It was really the last thing she needed right now.
And instead she looked right at Dillon who offered an assuring half-smile. His hair dropped over his forehead and begged Roslyn to push it back in place out of pure annoyance. She was starting to get frustrated with him-with them all-staring at her and doing nothing but wasting her time.
So to calm her nerves, she pulled her phone out as the three started their own conversation in a language that sounded like either French, or Spanish, and stared down at the time, wishing it would reverse itself.
Ignoring the incessant texts from Clare, she shoved her phone back into the clutch and popped it close, capturing the attention of the three tennants of the room once again.
"Dillon,"she spoke, trying to hide the irritance from her voice. She saw him look straight at her and she shivered internally. His eyes stared calculatingly now too, and it honestly scared Roslyn half to death. Whatever they'd been arguing probably had changed his mind on any comfort he felt torwards her because he just had that glint of apprehension in his blue orbs.
"I need to get home. Like now."