91. Little Did She Know

Rose's POV:

Rose had been stalling all day. Every hour, every minute she stretched outside her house felt like an escape. A delay. A postponement of the inevitable. 

It had become second nature to avoid going home too soon, as if the moment she crossed that threshold, something unseen would seize the opportunity she'd given it.

It wasn't fear—not quite. She never felt like she was in danger. Not yet.

 But the dread was growing, curling like vines around the pit of her stomach.

What started as an odd occurrence—the occasional unlocked door she was sure she'd bolted, the misplaced book, the kitchen drawer left ajar—had turned into something undeniable. 

It has now turned and felt more twisted. The doors, the windows, they were no longer just open; they were waiting.

And it was only a matter of time before they let something in. Something that has already been most likely in her house. The rose didn't just appear on the kitchen counter on it's own. 

The question is, how long before that thing decides it wants to stay.

And the shadow that lurked just past the tree line, the one in the shape of hum- No, she doesn't even wanna acknowledge that as anything other then her sleep deprived mind playing tricks. 

Like she said before, if you stare at the shadows too long, you see something moving in it.

Rose had tried her best to ignore it. To act normal. But the effort it took was exhausting. 

She had to keep herself occupied, surrounded by people, immersed in conversations that could drown out the nagging voice at the back of her head. 

Aria had asked her more than once why they never hung out at her place anymore. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation—one Rose had waved off with a different excuse every time.

Jake's working late, it gets boring.

The WiFi sucks.

My place is a mess, you don't wanna see it.

None of them were real, and none of them were close to the truth.

And now the visit to the pawn shop the other day. The hexes bought, the crosses that she hasn't yet hung around the house wondering how she would explain to Jake about her new biblical objects obsession. 

The holy water that she now carries with her. The one Aria was making fun of when she bought it but then seemed genuinely concerned when she saw the vial in Rose's bag at college today.

The odd behaviors kept piling up and no way to explain them but the truth. The excuses would eventually run out and Rose was well aware of the fact.

Because telling the truth would mean letting Aria in on something Rose barely understood herself.

If she told her, Aria would believe her. That wasn't the problem. But she would also insist Rose tell Jake. Maybe even the police. 

But none of that mattered now because Rose was here. 

Back at her house. Standing at the edge of the driveway, staring at it as twilight cast its long fingers across the siding, distorting the once-familiar silhouette into something… else.

The golden hues of the setting sun behind her should have made the house feel warmer, inviting even. 

Instead, the light elongated the shadows, stretched them across the porch, down the wooden steps, swallowing the pathway whole. 

Her home used to feel comforting, a sanctuary. Now, in the dying light of the evening, it stood against the sky like a hushed secret.

A thing waiting.

Rose inhaled sharply, digging her nails into her palm. She was tired. 

She had spent the whole day ensuring she exhausted herself—physically, mentally—so that when she got home, she could crash. 

If she was asleep, she wouldn't see anything move on its own. Wouldn't hear the shifting air when no one else was there.

Wouldn't have to think about whether the locked door at night would stay locked by morning. 

Or she wouldn't have to keep waking up to the smell of roses even when there weren't any nearby. Thankfully. If she's exhausted enough, she wouldn't wake up at all.

And besides—Jake was home. Probably. He had to be, Rose prayed for that really hard, all day long.

For she had noticed something peculiar over the past few weeks, ever since the strange occurrences began: when Jake was around, nothing happened.

No misplaced objects. No swinging doors. No chilly gusts of air slipping through a house that had all its windows shut.

And most importantly, no one leaving roses lying around for her to find.

It was almost as if… whatever this was, it waited for her to be alone.

Her grip on her bag strap tightened. 

Well, great. Looks like I'll just have to convince Jake never to leave the house again. Ever. That sounds reasonable.

A slow exhale left her lips.

This was ridiculous. She was acting like some terrified child. The worst thing that had happened so far was some odd occurrences, not an actual threat. 

She wasn't being hunted. Merely haunted.

Nothing had tried to hurt her. Yet.

One day, perhaps they make a movie about her paranormal house. That could be fun... unless the movie would be about me, the girl who got killed by the said paranormal house. Yup that wouldn't be a fun watch. 

With that thought lingering in her mind, Rose finally stepped forward, her feet landing softly against the wooden porch steps.

The creak beneath her weight sounded louder than usual, cutting through the quiet of the settling evening.

One more step. Then another.

The door stood in front of her now, waiting.

Rose let out a slow breath, reached for the handle, and stepped inside.

The last time she stepped into this house thinking optimistic thought that nothing would happen she ended up finding a swarm of roses and a lone one inside her kitchen!

No use of denying anymore. Let's see what she gets to witness tonight.

What's the worst that could happen? That's what Rose thought.

Oh and little did she know.