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Chapter V: Scars
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2024-10-29 19:42:56The first thing Rosalie registered the moment she regained consciousness was the feeling of flying. She felt numb and light and she had no idea how to get back to the ground.
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The cloudy night brought a twilight feel long before the sun was ready to set. The colors of the forest become less bright as if one is viewing them through dark glasses. The breeze has dampness to it that wasn't there a short while ago; it's cooler and fresher too. Arcangelo didn't have to be somewhere yet, giving him plenty of time to daydream and admire the heavens above, brilliant shafts of light bolting through the ever-changing cloud layer.
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After almost three weeks of isolation, Rosalie was almost as good as new. All the bruises were gone, most of her injuries were healed, and it was just her rib cage that was still bound since it needed more time to heal, but other than that, she was back in top shape.
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It was rather early in the morning with Rosalie sound asleep, a book placed beside her pillow. She had been so engrossed in the novel--a book she had borrowed from one of the numerous bookshelves in the house--and fell asleep while reading.
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Rosalie did not fare well in the morning when consciousness brought her out of her drunken haze. Her eyelids weighed a ton as she tried to recall how to open them, her mouth tasted absolutely repugnant as the vileness had her almost gag with her stomach churning in unease. A desolate moan slipped past her chapped lips as she wrapped her arms around her abdomen in hopes to relieve some of the tension, a momentary relief.
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A laugh tore through Rosalie as she ran behind the two little children who giggled hysterically, both of them scurrying away from her. Their footsteps and joy echoing off the walls of the barely inhabited estate.
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The air outside glistens with snowflakes as the sun hadn't even made its appearance. The flakes fell gently against the light breeze, landing on the white blanket, accumulating one after the other as it all crunched beneath the guard's snow boots. All of them dressed in heavy coats and other protective clothing against the weather while they patrolled the grounds at six in the morning.
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The warmth of her surroundings was what awoke Rosalie; that and the horrid dryness of her throat. With a soft grunt, she blinked her eyes open, instantly recognizing the pungent smell of a hospital disinfectant before her vision had even cleared.
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