A pair of small hands rocked Rose awake. She groaned, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow, but the effort was interrupted by a familiar voice calling her name.
“Rose! Wake up!” Dahlia’s voice was clear and insistent, punctuated by another gentle shake of her shoulder.
Rose groaned again, a dull drumming in her head making her want to cry. But the shaking persisted, accompanied by a voice digging into her ears. “Auntie Rose!”
With a miserable groan, Rose cracked one eye open to find Dahlia standing over her. The girl’s sharp eyes, bright with determination, narrowed in concentration as she worked to rouse her aunt. Rose blinked, struggling to shake off the lingering haze of sleep.
Over the years, Dahlia’s face had lost some of its soft roundness, her cheekbones now more defined. She had grown too—tall enough to loom unsettlingly over Rose as she prodded her awake. Or perhaps it was the dim light, the flicker of the oil lamp casting shifting shadows, that distorted her frame, giving her an eerie, almost ghostly glow.
Either way Rose was too miserable to care.
“What…?” Rose mumbled, her voice scratchy with sleep. She didn’t bother lifting a hand to rub her eyes—it was too much effort. “What’s wrong?” If no one was dead yet, it couldn’t be an emergency. Oh, wouldn’t that be nice? Then she could sleep.
“Because it’s time to get up!” Dahlia declared, her voice firm, almost commanding. “You’ve got to leave for work soon.”
Rose scoffed, half-yawning as she buried her head back into the pillow. “Impossible. My shift doesn’t start for…” She trailed off, struggling to calculate through the fog of exhaustion. Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, she went with the simplest excuse. “I just laid down,” she mumbled, her words slurred and muffled in the warm comfort of the bed.
One of her better purchases had been the new bed for Dahlia, though it had cost a good portion of their funds—a heavy blow. Still, the improvement was worth it; now they could sleep separately, undisturbed by each other’s tossing and turning. Not that it made mornings any easier.
“You didn’t just lay down—you fell asleep!” Dahlia shot back, giving Rose a gentle shove to push her back and forth. “Get up, or you’re going to be late.”
Rose grumbled at the sharpness of Dahlia’s voice, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to force herself up. The words echoed in her mind until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Okay, okay,” she said, summoning what little energy she could muster. “I get it, I’ll get up. Jesus.”
Dahlia tilted her head curiously. “Jesus?”
Rose waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about him. Anyway, what time is it?” she asked half expecting this to be a ridiculous childhood joke.
“First light just happened,” Dahlia replied.
“Fuuu.” Rose could cry. Her weary eyes drifted to the small window in their room, where the faint glow of morning crept through.
Rose groaned as she noticed the growing light outside. “Seriously?” she muttered. “I just got to sleep.”
She shook her head. She had gotten some rest, but it was never enough. These days, it felt like it never would be. The old woman’s funds had run out faster than she’d hoped, and though she’d managed to get Dahlia into school for two years, she hadn’t received a proper raise. Instead, she’d had to extend her hours to meet a compromise her boss deemed “acceptable.”
“Self-centered jackass,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Dahlia asked, her tone curious, but Rose clicked her tongue and waved the girl away. “Nothing, you don't need to be so curious.” she complained.
Undeterred Dahlia spoke up “I made you breakfast,” placing a plate of simple, cheap fare on the table.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” Rose replied, closing her eyes as her stomach churned. These days, even the sight of food seemed to twist it uncomfortably.
“You need to eat,” Dahlia insisted, her voice firm.
“I’ll eat at work,” Rose countered, her tone tinged with annoyance. The girl never listened anymore, growing far too independent for her liking. The plan had worked—Dahlia wasn’t suffering, and soon enough, she’d be out of Rose’s hair. It was almost time for her to meet the prince and be swept off her feet by the duke’s son.
Soon. Just a little longer to go…
“You really need to eat,” Dahlia repeated, but Rose stood, brushing past her.
“I need to get going,” Rose said curtly. She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure to pay attention in school today,” she added before stepping out.
“School?” Dahlia blinked, her expression shifting before her eyes widened. “Right. School.”
Rose turned back, frowning. “You are doing well in school, aren’t you?”
There was a pause, just long enough to make her suspicious, before Dahlia nodded. “Of course,” she said.
“Of course…” Rose echoed softly, shaking her head to clear the sluggish thoughts creeping in. She needed to get to work—dusk to dawn, or at least this world’s version of it.
Dahlia glanced at her aunt and offered, “Wouldn’t it be better if I helped?”
Helped. The word twisted in Rose’s mind. This child kept offering to help. It had been appreciated at first, but now it was just an annoyance. Dahlia was already doing enough—keeping the house tidy, trying to cook. Rose didn’t need more help; she needed the kid’s knight in shining armor to whisk her away already.
Rose took a deep breath, steadying herself. In and out. Slowly.
“Thanks,” she said softly, “but a child shouldn’t have to force herself to help. Just focus on school and have fun with your friends.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left quickly.
----------------------------------------
The journey to the library wasn’t as long as the one to the café, but it wasn’t short either. And now, she had to be there from start to finish—every shift—just to fail at scraping by. Eventually, forcing a deal with a devil.
Speaking of the devil, as she opened her door, a shadow loomed—a large, burly man waiting for her. Her heart quickened as recognition hit. “Boris,” Rose muttered, blinking in surprise. Her teeth caught her lower lip as unease crept in. She glanced back quickly, catching sight of Dahlia’s wide blue eyes peeking from the corner of the room.
Rose stepped outside, shutting the door firmly behind her. “What do you want?” she demanded, her voice low but steady.
Boris stood before her, a mountain of a man—broad with both muscle and fat. More boulder than man, really. And acting the part of a dog. His smile stretched wide, revealing rotted teeth twisted at odd angles. “Just a warning, darling,” he said, his voice gravelly.
Rose’s stomach churned, but she didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed. “I paid off that loan two weeks ago.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Interest,” Boris replied with a casual shrug, as though the word itself explained everything. “You never paid off the interest.”
“There was no interest on the loan,” she snapped, her jaw tightening.
Boris raised a thick hand, jabbing a knuckle into her chest. His grin widened as he dragged it downward, slow and deliberate. “That was before the boss gave you such a fine offer,” he said, his words dripping with mockery.
Rose smacked his hand away and took a step back. The rough wood of the door pressed against her back, cool and unyielding. Boris only smiled wider at her reaction, his grin turning more sinister. “That was before you rejected him, of course,” he said, his tone low and mocking.
“That wasn’t part of—” she began, but her words were cut off as his large, filthy hand shot forward and
gripped her face. His rough palm and thick fingers pressed hard against her mouth and nose, muffling her
voice and making it difficult to breathe. Her pulse raced as the acrid stench of him filled her. It was a scent that clung to him like a second skin, a testament to years of violence and disregard for the world
around him.
“The deal has changed as soon as you rejected him,” he growled, twisting his lips into a smile, “left you open to the rest of us though.” he laughed, chilling her core. “Standard rate. You owe 5 Brons now. You’ve got two options. Nod, or…” he let the open sentence fill the air between them.
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The glint in his angry, yellow eyes told her exactly what the alternative was. Exactly what he was hoping for.
Rose’s heart pounded as she looked around with desperate, wide eyes. The narrow street was busy—vendors were setting up their stalls, arranging wares in preparation for the day ahead. Some were already finished, chatting idly or calling out to passing customers. But no one did more than cast a fleeting, curious glance in her direction. Not one person stopped.
Not one person cared.
She wasn’t just alone—she was worse than alone. Inside, behind a flimsy wooden door that groaned under the weight of her own head being pushed against it, was a little girl. A girl separated from this monster by barely an inch of wood.
Rose looked up at Boris, meeting his menacing yellow eyes. Her throat tightened, and her body trembled as she did the only thing she could do.
She nodded.
Boris clicked his tongue, displeased, and released her roughly, his hand leaving a dull ache across her face. “Good, good,” he said, his tone almost casual now. “So, that’s one missed payment, meaning you owe four more—plus five extra for the trouble.”
“What?” Rose snapped, her voice cracking with disbelief.
Boris’s grin vanished. She froze. “I… I mean,” she stammered, dropping her gaze to her feet. She didn’t dare look at those awful eyes again. “Fine.”
Her trembling hands fumbled as she reached for her coin purse. It took longer than it should have to fish out nine Étain, her fingers clumsy and weak with fear. Slowly, she raised her hand, flinching as Boris snatched the coins greedily from her grasp. The rough scrape of his fingers against hers sent a shiver down her spine.
Boris chuckled as he pocketed the money. “Pleasure doing business, darling,” he sneered, his tone dripping with malice. Then, leaning in closer, his shadow swallowed her whole. “Although,” he added, his suggestion heavy in the air, “there is another way you can pay.”
The insinuation wasn’t new. It was familiar, vile, and made nearly every time she had to repay their extortion.
“I’m not doing that,” Rose spat, her voice low but sharp.
Boris’s grin widened, his yellowed teeth catching the dim light. “Maybe not you,” he said slowly, his tone dripping with menace. “But we know a few men who’d be more than happy to have some entertainment from that little blue-eyed number you’ve got tucked away back there.”
The words hit Rose like a slap. Her eyes snapped up, locking onto his face. The icy fear that had gripped her moments ago burned away, replaced by a searing, fiery rage. “What did you say?” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury.
For a fleeting moment, Boris seemed to falter, shrinking under the intensity of her glare. But he quickly puffed himself back up, looming over her. “You heard me,” he said, his smile turning even darker. “If you want to pay off the debt, let us borrow the kid for a bit. Don’t worry,” he added with a low, mocking chuckle, “we’ll give her back.” He shrugged. “Mostly intact.”
The chuckle didn’t last.
Rose’s hand flew across his face with a sharp, resounding crack.
Boris stood frozen, stunned—not from the pain, but from the audacity of her action. His face remained unmoved, his lips twitching as if he were still processing what had just happened.
Rose didn’t hesitate. Emboldened by her fury, she stepped forward and jabbed her finger into his broad chest. “Don’t you dare threaten her,” she snarled, her voice steady and fierce. “I don’t care about you or your boss. If you ever even try to come near her, I will—”
She didn’t finish. Couldn't finish.
Boris’s massive hand shot up, grabbing her outstretched finger mid-sentence. His grip was like a vice, closing around it with brutal force and he twisted it, hard. Rose gasped as a sharp, searing pain shot up her arm.
“Big words,” Boris growled, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers tightened further, and Rose felt the bone splinter. A choked cry escaped her lips, but she refused to back down, her glare locked on his.
He chuckled, a deep, menacing sound that vibrated in the narrow space. His breath, hot and foul, washed over her face as his fingers twisted cruelly, forcing her broken finger further back. “You’re just a washed up old crow,” he sneered, each word dripping with venom. “Without money, a man, or anyone to care for them.
Rose cried out as sharp, searing pain shot up her arm. Her legs buckled slightly, the unrelenting pressure driving her back against the door.
“You should be grateful my boss is the one after her,” Boris continued, his tone mocking and cruel. “If it were the old boss, you’d already have a slit across that scrawny little neck of yours.” His yellowed teeth gleamed as he twisted her finger further, clearly relishing the sound of her muffled sobs.
The pain was unbearable. Rose’s breath hitched, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. Please… please, please.” Her tears streamed freely as she gasped through the overwhelming agony. “Please, stop.”
Boris’s grin widened, his sadistic glee ignited by her pleas. He held her there a moment longer, savoring her desperation like a fine meal. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he released her. “Next time,” he said darkly, looming over her, “it will be your neck.”
His words were cold, final, and unrelenting.
Without another word, he turned and lumbered off, his bulk disappearing into the bustling crowd as though nothing had happened. Passersby cast fleeting glances but didn’t stop, their lives continuing as though she hadn’t just been shattered.
----------------------------------------
Rose slumped against the door, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Her trembling hands clutched her injured, twisted finger, the pain sharp and unrelenting. Slowly, her legs gave out entirely, and she slid down to the ground.
Her vision blurred as tears streamed freely down her cheeks, hot and bitter. The worst part wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t even the humiliation.
The worst part was knowing it wasn’t over.
With a shaky breath, Rose curled her uninjured hand around the twisted finger. Even the slightest touch sent fresh waves of pain through her, making her wince. But she had to do this.
The people in the street milled about, preoccupied with their own lives. No guards would come. No one would help. She was on her own.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself—and pulled.
Pain exploded through her hand, and she cried out, the sound raw and broken. She stared at the finger, now crooked and misshapen, knowing it would never be quite right again.
Her legs shook as she pushed herself upright. She took a wobbly step forward, and the door creaked open behind her. She froze, the blood pounding in her ears, as a voice rang out.
“Is everything alright?” The voice was too calm, lacking any of the innocence it should have.
Rose swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Fine,” she managed to spit out, though her voice cracked.
A small hand tugged at her dress. “Is everything alright?” the voice repeated, softer now, almost timid.
Rose twisted around sharply, slapping the little hand away before she could stop herself. “I said it was fine!” she barked, her tone sharp and biting.
She froze as her eyes met Dahlia’s—wide, startled, and filled with concern.
Rose’s stomach twisted. Guilt churned within her as she took in the sight of Dahlia’s worried expression. She wanted to reassure her, to tell her everything would be okay.
But the words that came out were sharp and venomous.
“I don’t need you worrying about me! I’ve got my hands full already dealing with the mess you brought with you!” the words burned her throat as they escaped.
She bit down hard on her lip, trying to keep more words from spilling out. She turned on her heel, her steps uneven as she fled into the streets.
Part of her hated how good it felt to finally say it aloud—that everything was Dahlia’s fault. If it weren’t for her, there’d be no constant worry about money, no scraping by just to keep her in that stupid school. Her life would have been easier without her.
The thought made her feel like a monster, but it also felt like the first breath of air after drowning.
“Auntie Rose!” Dahlia’s small voice called out behind her, tinged with worry that only deepened the knot in Rose’s chest.
“I need to get to work!” Rose shouted, her voice snapping like a whip. She didn’t dare look back.
“But—”
“I said I was fine!” she screamed, her voice cracking as tears spilled freely down her face. She couldn’t stop herself from nearly sprinting away, her heart aching worse than her hand.