Her fingers tightened around the scrap of paper Ruby had left on the dresser that morning.
Be back soon. Going for a run. xoxo, Ruby
The note was worn from Belle's grip. There were crimson fingerprints smeared around the edges of the words, the white backside of the paper stained pink by her hands. She clenched it like it was her lifeline, despite the smudged writing and warped, wet edges. The scent of Ruby lingered still and blended with the faint smell of copper, creating a sickly odor that swirled around her.
In a movie, this was when the screen would fade to black and the lights would illuminate the room, separating fiction from the real world. But this wasn't a movie. There would be no reprieve here. This was Belle's reality, and Ruby was never going to walk through that door again.
