Rose POV

The night air was cold. It sent shivers down my spine as if a ghost touched me. Granted, that could have been Mason; he hovered close since we got home from the store. Dimitri excused himself to arrange the gifts he bought for his family while I went straight to the study and took out a paper and pen.

Whenever I wrote a letter for a ghost, I never added my name or address; I didn't need people coming after me to find out how I knew all those things. It had been almost a year since I last helped get a message out; the last time was for the lady who used to clean the house. She had been sweet to me and reminded me so much of Rhea. Her sister just wanted her to know her last words, but the moment I tried, it all fell apart. It was the first time I was called a witch.

She had screamed at me and drew the attention of everyone in the house, including my father. The look of pity he gave me hurt almost as much as her words.

I never wanted to help anyone after that day.

Only when I met Ivan and became friends with Dimitri—I realised how much I missed being part of the world of the living. I used to believe there was a way I could use my curse for some good; even if I only helped a few people, maybe it would make it worth it.

"Do you think the daughter will believe it?" Mason asked as I placed the letter in the mailbox. He tilted his head back as a few flakes of snow floated to the ground; his eyes squeezed closed, and his tongue was out as if he could catch it.

I stared at the letter and pursed my lips. "I hope so."

"I haven't seen you help someone in a while."

"I just felt like it," I shrugged and closed the mailbox. The mailman would be by in the morning to take it, and then it would be out of my hands.

Mason leaned forward, "Dimitri isn't as shit as I first thought."

"Kind words from you," I commented and agreed, "Dimitri is a good guy." Not once had Dimitri appeared put off by me, acting normal for the rest of the day. "I was thinking of maybe telling him the truth."

"Do you think that's a good idea? Didn't Ivan say Dimitri wouldn't go for it?"

"Yeah," I sighed, "but I think he will. If all else fails, you can push a book off the table again." I laughed at the grin that crossed Mason's face.

"Throw one of his westerns across the room."

"Yeah, that will get his attention."

It was too cold to go outside; the clouds were dark and covered the sky with a thick layer. No sunlight broke through, and yet we were in the sunroom. I just gravitated to the room during the day, a mutual ground for Dimitri and me to sit. He had a book in hand, and I had the intention of working on an assignment that was due soon but found myself studying him instead.

I fiddled with the cords on my hoodie, tugging them down and stretching the material. Dimitri looked so relaxed, a slight smile on his face. I told Mason I would tell him the truth, but fear got the better of me.

What if he didn't believe me? What if he hated me?

At least, then I would know.

It was better to know. Right?

Dimitri had listened to me talk about ghosts—about Mason—and not once turned me away. Maybe he would believe me. I glanced at Ivan, knowing how much he wished he could say to his friend, and I was the one person who could give them that connection.

I felt a surge of confidence.

"Dimitri," I began, earning a hum and his attention on me, "if you could talk to Ivan again, would you?"

Ivan's head whipped to the side, a look of caution on his face. Dimitri wore a cautious look himself but didn't close off completely. He shifted in his chair to face me better and answered, "I would always want to speak to Ivan again. Why?"

I took a deep breath and sat up. My hands were shaking, and I gripped the loose material of my jeans to keep them still. "I know you don't believe in ghosts, but could you try for a second?"

He cleared his throat and shifted on the couch, his book closed and laid on the coffee table between us. His hands clasped together, head bowed as if preparing himself. "I don't believe in them."

"What if I could prove it?"

"Let's not–"

I knew that tone—had heard it from enough people to know I was fighting a losing battle. But I kept pushing. "I can prove it to you. I can help you talk to him."

Dimitri's expression shifted; a deep frown pulled on the corners of his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Rose," he started with a tight voice.

"No, I mean it. If you just give it a chance, I can prove it to you," I defended, looking to Ivan for help, but he just looked at me with pity. I turned to Mason instead. "Mason can–"

"Rose, stop," Dimitri warned.

I should have listened. But a part of me desperately needed someone else to believe me—for Dimitri to believe me. I tried again, "Really, Dimitri. They are right here. I can tell you everything Ivan's been saying since you got here. He wants to help you–"

"Enough!" Dimitri roared, hands slapped down on the table. I flinched back in my chair, shrinking under his eyes; he looked at me with repulsion. "This isn't a game, Rose!"

"I'm not lying," I defended.

It only made him furious. I had pissed him off countless times before, but it was never like this. His hands were balled into fists, a tremor in them as if he was trying to hold himself back.

"Never mention him again. I didn't tell you about Ivan for you to use him in your delusion!" Each word spat at me like it was venom; the glare in his eyes was like daggers. Dimitri sprang to his feet and stormed out of the room. Not once did he look back at me.

My delusion…

He didn't believe me.

No one would ever believe me.

So many accused me of just making it up. So many of them were people I thought I could trust to believe me, and every single time I was left disappointed and hurt.

Dimitri was no different.

The pain of his words and how he looked at me cut deep into my heart, causing tears to well up in my eyes. After the day before, and the party, I thought Dimitri would at least be willing to hear me out. I could understand being sceptical, but I never thought he would react like that.

I never thought he would be like everyone else.

Just like them, Dimitri would abandon me.

I felt their cool presence near me. Chills went down my spine, the briefest sensation of someone patting my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rose," Ivan started, "I tried to warn you."

A sound of anger ripped from my throat. I pushed myself away from the couch—from them— my fists clenched as I glared at them. They were what was wrong with me. They were the reason I had to live like this.

"I fucking hate you! Just because you're pissed you're dead doesn't mean you have to ruin my life!"

Mason frowned; sorrow filled his eyes. "Rose, that's not what–"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted, picking up a vase beside me and throwing it at the couch. It went straight through them and bounced off the cushions, only to shatter on the ground. It was in pieces, just like me. "Stay away from me," I warned, "I don't want to see you."

It was a desperate plea that I knew I would never be able to achieve—not without the help of something else. I spun on my heel and ran to my room as if I could run away from the ghosts. I just wanted to escape my own reality. I wanted to have someone that didn't think I was crazy.

I wanted to feel normal.

The walls of my room shook from the force of my door slamming shut; I pressed against it, flicking the lock as if it would keep them all out. I could never escape it. No matter what I did, I would always be haunted by what others couldn't see. Hot tears trailed down my cheeks, each burned with anger and sorrow that churned inside me.

Why did this have to be my life?

I used to be normal. I once had the chance at a pretty good life. Yet there I was, curled up against my door and sobbing over the loss of…of whatever Dimitri was.

A friend?

An acquaintance?

It wasn't more than that, and it never would be.

I surged to my feet and turned on my stereo, needing the sound to drown out everything else. The vibrations rocked through my body with each beat—it was soothing. I trudged through my room to the bathroom, turning the taps until a stream of hot water pooled in the sink; I splashed my face.

This was exactly why I didn't get close to anyone.

People always left me.

I stared at my reflection, glaring at the idiot who crushed on her bodyguard. I wasn't someone he would date—I was the insane girl he was paid to be around. Dimitri was paid to stand next to me, even when I appeared crazy—that was the only reason he never turned me away.

The whole time, I believed he cared. It was just an act. Abe must have thrown buckets of money at him to keep him around. I just made it easier because of a stupid crush.

I was pathetic.

xXx

Dimitri POV

The scent of coffee didn't bring any reprieve; I would need more than one cup to make it through the day. A headache pressed behind my eyes and thumped, a reminder of how little I slept. I glanced behind me every few minutes, listening for any movement on the stairs, but heard nothing.

Rose never left her room after I yelled at her. I couldn't bring myself to knock on the door, knowing she wouldn't want to see me; I couldn't blame her. After the anger had faded, I regretted how I spoke to her.

I assumed I had moved past the pain of Ivan's death, but I was still in the thick of it, and Rose brought it all to the surface. She pushed on an open wound, and I reacted without thinking.

"...your delusion."

I groaned and dropped my head to my hands. I messed up.

How could I explain I didn't believe she saw ghosts without hurting her? How do I even begin to make it better between us? All of the trust I built was destroyed with a few words said in anger.

Footsteps made me straighten, looking to the hall with a held breath.

Mr Mazur rounded the corner and greeted me, "Good morning, Dimitri. Already back from the morning run?"

My shoulders fell forward, and I tried to keep the disappointment off my face. "No. Rose hasn't been down yet," I informed him. I looked down the hall again and wondered if I should bite the bullet and try to talk to her. Maybe it had been enough time for her to listen to me without slamming the door in my face.

Or maybe she would prefer it if I cut all ties.

"Sir," I drew her father's attention and continued with a despondent tone, "I think Rose may no longer wish for my presence as her bodyguard."

I never dug too deep into what Mr Mazur did; my focus was on Rose, not her father. What I did learn was he could be a formidable man if needed, and in that moment, I believed it. His shoulders rolled back, and his eyes pinned me in place with a piercing gaze. "What did you do?"

It made me grateful that he was instantly on Rose's side—he was right to be so. I cleared my throat before explaining, "We fought yesterday. Rose mentioned…she mentioned Ivan and that she could see him." The heat left his gaze, and understanding replaced it. "I'm not proud of my actions, but I yelled at her. I said things out of anger that I shouldn't have."

"Ahh," he replied, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I can't say I'm surprised. This isn't the first time something similar happened. Is she upstairs?"

"Has been since yesterday afternoon," I responded with a nod to my phone. I had checked the GPS just in case. After I calmed down, I panicked that she would run again, but her signal never moved from the house.

He stood and adjusted his waistcoat; eyes down the hall. "Let me talk to her and see what she is comfortable with. I would prefer if you two could move past it, but we will see."

I watched him leave, feeling dread settle in my chest with each step I heard. It was like waiting on pins and needles.

"Where's Abe?" Pavel asked from behind me, marching through the kitchen with his phone in hand. He wore a stern expression and appeared irritated.

"Talking to Rose."

"Dammit. Try to keep her away–"

"Belikov!" Mr Mazur's voice thundered from upstairs, and Pavel and I responded by running to the stairs. So many terrible possibilities raced through my mind, each worse than the last. Rose's father stormed down the steps with a drawn face and a finger pointed at me. "She isn't in her room."

"What? Her GPS–"

"Her phone is on her bed," he cut me off, "Her window was open, so she must have snuck out during the night."

I cursed, "I'll find her."

"You better."

"Abe," Pavel interrupted, "She's here."

His eyebrows rose, "She?" A look passed between them, and he deflated. "Of all times… Belikov, find Rose and get her back here as quickly as possible. I don't care what you have to do to achieve it. Do you understand?"

I nodded, already heading to the backdoor. A list already formed in my mind of where to check, the river, and a few stores, and then the person she visited the first night I worked. I decided where to go first as I grabbed my jacket and keys. It was all my fault she ran away, and it was my job to bring her back.

Please be safe, Rose.

I was so focused that I didn't notice until I reached for the door handle and saw a person in the backseat. I couldn't believe what I saw. Rose was lying across the seats, wrapped up in a thick coat and a bottle of vodka cradled in her arms. Her head was leaning on the door, mouth open as she snored, completely unaware I was there.

At first, I was relieved. I thought she ran and worried I would have to check the hospitals if I couldn't find her. But I stared at the bottle of alcohol in her arms, and my blood boiled.

I opened the door, not so kindly waking her up. Rose yelped and fell forward; I gripped her shoulder to stop her from falling to the ground. A laugh low left her, moving sluggish as she tried to right herself. With a fumble, she tried to open the bottle, but I snatched it from her. Finally aware of me, Rose lifted glazed eyes to mine, and her expression became harsh.

"What the fuck do you want?" she snarled.

"Where did you get this?" I demanded, shaking the half-empty bottle.

She smirked, though it lacked humour. "I bought it. Give it back?"

"You snuck out to buy alcohol? Do you know how foolish that was? What if you were caught?" Images of Rose drunk and passed out on the side of the street flashed in my mind, and I felt a pang of panic. At least she was smart enough to drink in the car and had a coat on. "What were you thinking?"

Rose narrowed her eyes and reached for the bottle again, successfully snatching it from my hand. "I was getting rid of my delusions. Not that it's any of your business."

I winced. "Rose–"

"Save it. You're fired. You're free of the crazy. Congratulations!" She tried to close the door, pulling at the handle with each word, but I wasn't budging. She yelled in anger, blazing eyes snapping to mine, "You can leave, just like everyone else!"

"I'm not leaving. What I said yesterday was wrong. I never should have yelled at you. I'm sorry, Rose," I apologised, praying there was a chance of getting through to her.

Rose froze, her mask of indifference cracking, then she scowled, "Fuck off, Dimitri!" She slid across the seats, opened the opposite door and climbed out with a slight fumble. "You two can fuck off, too! All of you can just leave me alone!" Her voice cracked, and her fingers curled into her hair. "Just leave me alone."

I messed up more than I realised.

Rose stumbled through the garage but tripped on a box. The bottle in her hand slipped and shattered on the concrete; glass flew in all directions. I reached for her, pulling her back a few steps.

"Are you okay?" I asked, searching her hands and legs.

"Don't pretend to care."

I dipped my head to meet her eyes, silently pleading her to believe me. "I do care, Roza."

She pushed me away, twisting out of my grip, and avoided the glass. "I'll clean that up later."

I followed her back to the house, trying to think of what to say. She was still drunk and needed to sleep it off; if she still told me she wanted me gone when sober, I would leave. Until then, I needed to ensure her safety.

Rose kept glancing back at me, a scowl on her lips each time. Once we were in the house, she beelined for the kitchen while I looked for Pavel.

Voices travelled from the living room; they were muffled but agitated. I didn't have to search for them—they came to us. It took Rose a moment to react, not looking up from the fridge until her father and a woman with curly red hair stormed in.

"Where is she, Abe? The deal was you keep her out of trouble, not let her run about!" The woman shouted, barely sparing me a glance before her eyes locked on Rose.

I hadn't seen fear on Rose's face before—rage and anguish, yes, but never fear. As the woman approached, Rose looked like a deer in the headlights. "Why are you here?"

The woman scoffed. "A fake ID? Really, Rosemarie?"

"You're a bit late to the party on that one, Janine," she snapped back. There was fire in her eyes, but her hands shook.

Janine.

I eyed the woman and took in her short but fit stature. She didn't look at Rose with much affection, but I could see the resemblance between the two women.

She was Rose's mother.

*Insert gif of Hades yelling "Let's get ready to rumble!"*