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There is a lot of stories in the valleys of Transylvania.
When she was tiny, still a baby thing of a girl, Rosa’s mother will tell her stories before bed. Charming princes on their tall horses saving damsels of distress hidden away in high towers by evil, snotty-nosed witches. Kind, illuminant unicorn trotting in forests, always ready to help those lost and not yet found. Her mother painted her mind with colour, with the way she describes and waves her hand in the air like an artist holding a brush. The faerie court lives in her head and she thinks they are real.
Little Rosa loves these stories, yes, yes she did. She kept them close to her heart in her chest. She sings the songs – nursery rhymes and small poems and lullabies when she walks to school, to the garden, to her friends who would chirp along with her:
Don’t you go to the water-side; for the siren sleeps inside,
There’s the wolf that you must fear, and there’s the fairies in the woods,
There in the meadow big and wide, rests the dandelions of magic light,
And on the top of Mount Transylvania lives the King of Eternal Night.
-they would sing and dance on the meadow with crowns made out of poppies and cosmos. It was a wonderful pastime - a time where everything was innocent and pure. Far away from the impurity of adulthood.
There were more. Rosa remembers. She could not recall the lyrics, the words now, but she knows there are more, just that her grown-up mind had hidden them away like Peter Pan's Neverland. That is probably the curse of growing up; every child is doomed to have their memories blotted out in spaces – always the important information. What is left of them are half-filled words and blurred-out pudgy faces of children.
Rosa even has a theory for their disappearance: they aren't here because they do not matter to the world anymore as things set in the past. They’ve grown up. It is unbelievable, but it is a truth that can not be denied.
Of course, it had taken time. One year, five years. Ten passed by in the race of spring towards winter. Soon enough, it was Rosa’s turn to go through the magical metamorphosis from little girl to young woman. Her height increased. Her cheeks lost their baby fat. Her breasts filled her bodice and shaped her form. Her friends did too, and as if their physical change were a sign of change itself, they begin to part ways.
Some of them had left their humble village. Some got engaged. Some with child and some barren. A few ladies single with their jobs, harassed by everyone’s ‘when is it your turn’ ‘you ain’t young anymore missy, you gotta find someone to rely on the older days.’ ‘I have a strapping young lad here who would like to take your fancy missus.’, and be expected to be married at eight the next day when the chapel bell rings.
Rosa is one of these girls. She is what people would jokingly call a pole, a to-be spinster. Those ladies who are too picky, who would end up with nothing. She ignores them. They can’t do anything to her, and there is nothing they can do to the people around her either – her parents had passed away a few winters back, leaving her the family job of librarian for herself to keep, and there weren’t many human beings living nearby.
But she wasn’t lonely, she is not. She has entire shelves of books in her family job called Village Library to keep her company. Books - they are where her fictional friends resided and where her loyalties lie. She is content with just flipping through their paper pages.
So she reads day after day, night after night as she cleans and arranges the place, daily routine and all. No one disturbs her save for random people looking to borrow the random fiction once in a while.
One day though, her peace is disrupted.
“Excuse me?” Rosa asks with narrowed eyes on a fine afternoon. “What do you mean the Library is going to be shut?”
“Miss, I think you hear me quite clearly.” The gentleman quips back. He doesn’t look much older than Rosa. His eyes reflected the sun from his thin metal glasses and it made his figure look more intimidating with the long shadow. It made her feel like scowling. “We are taking down the place.”
“For what? Because I couldn’t afford your interests that you’ve increased without notifying me a day before the deadline?”
“Precisely.”
“That’s barbaric!” Rosa puts her hands down on the table with a thump, the stationary bouncing upon impact as she stares at the spectacled man. “You can’t do that!”
“I am sorry to break this to you, Miss Rosa, but we can.”
His voice was a thunderclap of rocks rolling down a cliff onto the sleeping fellow’s brain. It was a rude awakening, a slap to her cheek. “You cannot.” Rosa shakes her head, face palid. “What will happen to me, you can’t do this. This is my home, this is my father’s property…”
“Was. Miss Rosa. It is Lord Griffins’s rightful property now.”
“I can pay, I can pay everything, just spare me a damn day or two and I’ll give you the full amount of money!”
The man simply stared. His arms were crossed. Judge, jury and executioner. She the quarry. “I am regretfully upset to be the one to break this to you, my dear. But His Lordship said he wants those twelve-thousand pounds before dusk, and I am in no position to bargain.”
He finishes, and she is probably panicking in his eyes. She probably looks like nine, complete with a cotton cloth teddy in hand. The resolution in his voice threatens to waver her. Hell, it might have already. So Rosa looks away instead, focusing on an inexistent dirt spot on the man’s perfect suit.
“You cannot expect me to go sleeping on the streets.”
“Might as well consider it an option.”
“Good sir,” Rosa took in a deep breath of air to steady herself. She already felt faint. “You are cornering me to death. By God’s name, Lord Griffins cannot be so cruel. I have given him everything I have and now I barely have enough to keep going myself. There must be any option left-”
She paused, and her eyes wandered towards the stack of opened letters on the desk, just behind her brass name plague. Realization dawned. “Bastard.”
The man’s lips rose upwards in approval. It only added to the chill of confirmation to her spine. An angry flush rose up to her cheeks.
“I’m not marrying him.”
“It’s not a bad option. You get to keep your place, your job and your reputation, miss.”
“And lose my autonomy to this, this tyrant thing of a landlord?! Never. Never, I tell you! Never...”
Her voice falters to a whisper when she sees the look of cool severeness peeking on the man’s face. He still had his arms crossed, his expression unreadable like a block of wood in mercy to be axed. It struck her that perhaps, perhaps he didn't want to do this any more than she does - to push and grind till the poor has nothing but their skeletons under saggy skin, while he feeds his family in remorse with the blood money he earns from his boss. She could tell from the way he stares at her with a small flame in his eyes that he was being sincere and honest with his advice, even if it sounds ridiculous to hear. But everything screams at her.
He truly believed it’s the best outcome she can get, and Rosa thinks he is correct. Who in their right mind would want to help a young girl deep in debt, much less when everyone else could not pay their own? You had to be rich or be a lunatic to do that.
There is a reason the saying ‘every man for himself.’ exists after all…
“I do hope you reconsider, Miss Rosa.” The gentleman tipped his hat politely towards her while finally moving towards the way out. “It is not an opportunity for everyone. I didn’t say it would be easy either, but we don’t have the right to be choosers. There will be a carriage ready to pick you up at dusk if you agree to it. I hope you do.”
“What if I don’t-”
She could not finish. The door had closed with a gentle thud and star-shocked Rosa stood stoic in her place; unsaid words stayed cut in her throat.
I must be out of my goddamn mind. Rosa thought as she tucks the last of her belongings into her trunk. I can’t believe I am doing this.
The interior of the house was stark, empty chairs and empty tables siding with bleak grey walls. Dust powder floating in the air and bouncing with every movement Rosa makes. She closes her wardrobe, and specks of dust explode and assault her sinuses. She sneezes.
“Goddamnit.”
Annoyed, she folds her clothes neatly into the luggage and closes it. Then she takes a few steps back to admire her handiwork. The trunk was old but it served well, its latch intact and not rusty despite the lack of use. It was a present from her parents. So were the very few belongings she owns, the library and this house she inherited.
All blank and monotone with their items sold or pawned off to keep everything going. And now it was her turn, Rosa thought bitterly. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father and mother would think of the current situation, of her choice. They had always been prideful of the way she carries herself with dignity and confidence, and they wanted her to stay that way.
Well, if she has to choose between dignity and her own family, the answer was clear.
The clock struck seven. Rosa stares at it, a bit of dread and anxiousness climbing into her skull and dripping down her hands, and she shook her head.
Perhaps a small breather outside will do well to calm her frazzled nerves.
Thought in mind, she lifts the moderately light trunk and trots her way to the door. The warm balmy air of summer caresses her, and she settles inches away from the garden fence that surrounded her tiny cottage house. The red-orange of sunset was a bouquet of sneezeweeds hanging beyond clouds. In a faraway corner, children were hopping and laughing about with flowers and leaves in their hands, singing.
Rosa smiles at the sight, her foreboding future forgotten. She watches in standing silence at the wind that blows and ruffles a girl’s blonde locks, at the way her skirt floats, and she imagines herself in her shoes as the girl she used to be. The carefree, innocent child singing songs and dancing feet on the green wide meadow, who knew nothing about the countless responsibilities the world uses to crush people till their sparks die and wither, never to light up again.
Has her spark died down? Maybe, maybe it has. That’s why she is here standing, a grown woman with her future decided, she thinks. But oh, there is no stopping time when it flows, when time wants to grab a hold of her hands, to lead her up, up the sandglass of the past and bury her deep. Memories do not die so easily. It touches the soul.
She begins to hum. Then she sings in whispers.
It’s a small song, a quiet one. It’s a song her father taught her and accompanies her when he puts old totems back in their places. It is a song her mother sings her to sleep with and the song where the family of three would dance in front of the tiny fireplace when everyone is bored.
And so she finds her body moving on instinct, making a hop and a skip. Dancing on the grass like a swan on its lake, like a bird on the skies and petals in the wind, going by the rhythm of memory and memory alone. She twirls and twirls, pace quickening with every second and minute, every exhale of breath elysian peace. Her feet wearing Hans’s cursed red shoes and she can never stop tapping. She realises she does not care if anyone could see her. They can gawk all they want. They had stolen her home, her autonomy and her future, it was true. But this was something they will never take. This moment was hers alone, and nothing, nothing in the world can interrupt-
Crack.
Rosa stops. The magic in the air seems to ebb. She turns towards the voice and half-expected to see Lord Griffins with his servants on the side, carriage ready. But there was no one. She was staring into the entrance of the forest.
Was she dreaming? She made no sound. The trees flirted with the wind. She sees a pair of golden lights appear in the shadows and she tenses.
There was a moment of quiet as they stared, until the shadow decided to speak. “That was a wonderful performance, dear girl. I did not mean to startle.”
“Who are you?”
“A local foreigner, who was passing by until he hears the music of an angel from the mouth of the forest.”
She calmed. It was nobody after all. “Sir, I hope I don’t sound rude to you; but I thought the word local and foreigner meant two conflicting things.”
“Hm, I suppose so.” He hums softly and Rosa still could not make out his shape in the deep darkness of the trees. Only his eyes shone. “Why are you here? It’s getting dark. A young, intelligent lady of your calibre would know better than to leave herself vulnerable to the creatures of the night.”
“I am waiting for someone.”
“A friend? A family member? Your significant other, perhaps?” His voice reminded Rosa of silk and the picture of honey pouring in gold goblets, or a cello on its highest baritone note. “No matter who they are, this is still unacceptable and irresponsible of them. A gentleman worth his salt would never abandon his lady.”
“True, but I wouldn’t really call him my significant other, so it was reasonable of him to not care.” Rosa sighs in agreement, her brows softening into relaxed lines as she listens to his soothing tone. Maybe this stranger would sympathise with her plight, would spare a moment to listen to her trapped cries. “I guess you can say our relationship is more of a creditor-debtor thing than romance.”
“That does not sound like a good bargain.”
“It isn’t. But I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?”
There was another bout of silence after that, and Rosa thought she may have accidentally killed whatever good humour that existed between them until the man resumes. “Would you accept help if it were offered to you?”
“Pardon?”
“If someone gave you a choice to leave, would you take it?”
Rosa takes a step back, suspicion swishing in the shallows of her mind. “Why the sudden question?”
The pair of eyes flickered. “I think I phrased it quite literal enough, my dear. I do not mean to pry. I am simply curious that is all. I apologise for my straightforwardness if I may have offended you, but I would very much appreciate an answer.”
“An answer.” Rosa echoes. Her head felt full. She tries to imagine the stranger’s question in her head, and she conjures out images of herself leaving her cottage right there and then with her trunk to somewhere far away from home. Rosa knows it is possible. Despite her landlord’s whimsical whines, it was not profitable enough for him to raze down her home and library and rebuild something else. The area was too far away from residences and no one would bother to go there when the local grocery and theatre was closer.
No, it was never about the money. Lord Griffins simply used the things she has left as leverage against her just because he wanted her. Aren’t those excuses of lost receipts and random increases of interest rates solid proof enough of his ulterior goals?
It is not far-fetched to assume he would leave everything intact if she were to disappear from his sight forever.
“I do wish I can see what is going on in your mind.” His voice interrupts her, and she raises her eyes to see the stranger moving closer. His shoes shone dark under the rising moon and Rosa catches a silver strand of hair. “Other girls would have answered me already. Yet you look conflicted.”
That’s because she is, she thought. But she purses her lips. “It isn’t an easy question. There’s a lot to think about.”
“What is there to think about?” Rosa could imagine his brows crumple and it made her defensive. “It seems you live alone, and that means you have nothing to tie you down. This place is far away from town, no one would remember you if you left. You could have your freedom intact. So why be conflicted?”
“It’s not that simple… This is my home.”
“Ah.” The man sighs. “Sentimental significances?”
Rosa nods curtly. “It’s everything I have left of my parents.”
“There’s the choice to visit once in a while and it’s safer that way.”
Again, the man was right. But something still ate at her conscience. She ends up biting her lip. “I am really not sure what you are getting at, mister, but don’t my personal feelings matter anymore? Can I not follow what my heart wishes?”
The moon is above them now, and the stars were lost to sight. It must be late. Is it not nine yet?
She turns to look at the road. Still no one. Then she turns back and a gasp ran out her mouth. The man stood right in front of her; gold eyes, silver hair, formal clothing and all.
“It seems they had not arrived.”
“Um… sir?” He’s standing a tad bit too close for health. Rosa shifts uncomfortably, her heels digging into the dirt not knowing if it counted impolite to step back without notice, or if she should simply stay still. Lucky enough for her, the man noticed her fidgeting.
“Ah, where are my manners. I don’t mean to make you wait, let me carry on with what we talked about.”
That isn’t the point…
He ignores her. “I have seen countless people ruining their lives for just a moment of feeling. Oh, but please do not be mistaken; it is not wrong to embrace desire per se, but I thought you are wise and clever enough to identify what will bring you to ruin, and what wouldn’t. Not give yourself over to the tide of emotion.”
His eyes were the moon itself. They were intoxicating to see. Rosa watches them swirl with soft emotion and her heart constricts beyond control. They narrowed.
“So tell me, dear. Would you prefer sacrificing yourself to honour your already dead parents? Do you think they would want that to happen to their only daughter? Because I don’t think they would. Yes, they wouldn’t.”
Her heart hammers on in her ribcage, quickening its pace. Rosa was suddenly very aware of her surroundings. Lights dimming, the air full of the scent of grass and flowers and something… sweet. The stranger’s white, silk-like hair and porcelain skin. God forbid he hear the rushing blood in her veins. She could not stand the thought of him knowing.
“I could bring you away.” He murmurs. “I have a place that you can hide from the sun. It is not very far from here. You could visit if you like, could stay as long as you like. You can see it as a temporary retreat, and you can return to your place when everyone thought you have gone. Your ordinary life would be intact, untouched.”
He pauses, then took a step back. The sweet scent in the air dissipates and Rosa laments its loss. The man smiles at her.
“All you have to do is consent, young miss, and I will lend you my hand. I ask for nothing in return but your company, yes, your company is all I want. What do you say?”
She had to say, it was tempting. A kind stranger offering a solution with no ties attached. An open window in a room full of locked doors. There were no cons, no disadvantages, nothing below the table to stop Rosa from agreeing, to take the shot and go along with the plan. A single yes would be the answer to all her problems.
But her pride won out.
“No.”
Confusion clouds his face and Rosa winces at his immediate reaction. “But why?” An emotion that seemed so much like hurt throws a shadow to his face and she was arrested by a sudden tug of guilt.
“I, I just…”
The man stares expectantly in her direction. It only serves to unnerve her more. His gaze was too intense...
She closes her eyes. She takes in a deep breath, counting from one to ten. Then she attempts to sort out the proper words that would articulate her tangled-up thoughts. They aren't straight at the given moment, but Rosa struggles to unbind them.
“I am sorry to have upset you, sir.” She spoke. “I appreciate your offer, I really do. I would be lying if I say I did not fantasize about the idea you have given me, freedom and a fearless future. It is everything I ever wanted, but...”
“But?”
She holds her gaze firm. “I am first my own person; I hold myself responsible for everything in my life. And that means I cannot rely on everyone I meet to solve my own problems when everyone else has them too.”
“Some problems can be solved by avoidance.”
“That is true, but if I use that as an excuse to shy away from every obstacle I meet in my life, I am nothing but a coward,” Rosa argues. “If a captain would not order his troops to retreat from the frontlines because they are afraid of getting shot, then the same would apply to me. I am no coward, and I do not wish to be a damsel helpless in her skirts as I run away from my fears. If I die... then I will die on my own terms, for Christ's sake, everything be damned.”
She pauses, and after brief consideration, her tone softens. “That is why I am afraid I have to decline your generous offer, sir. I am grateful for your kindness, but I want to accept whatever outcome might be in store for me, no matter if I would like it or not... And for that, I apologize.”
She stops in a halt, like a candle blown out. Then she curses herself for her speech the moment the last syllable falls. What the hell, Rosa thought. What in the name of Jesus Christ was in her mind when her traitorous mouth decides to drop such unladylike words to the world? Her tongue betrayed her thoughts, her heart! Could anyone imagine, an independent lady with a heart like a man? Unheard of! Blasphemy! Whatever will she do? Rosa could only take a tiny glance at the stranger's face in hope that he might not take her words at face value.
There was no response, the man was still looking at her, pair of golden eyes like a feline staring at mice in the dark. It made her heart thump harder. Ah, she had offended him, what should she do? Her mind rode on its own. It raced a thousand miles a millisecond, scavenging infinite possibilities and ways to joke it off, to say she did not mean what she says and leave right after with her trunk back home…
But she didn’t want to lie.
Rustle. There was a small flash of movement she did not quite catch, it was very brief, but it had caught her attention, and so she looks up. Then Rosa's eyes captured a motion in front of her; an abrupt, small curve of the lips. He was smiling.
Curious, Rosa was about to open her mouth to ask why, but he did before she could herself in a whisper.
“It seems that I have found a precious gem…”
“What?” She blinks, but the man didn’t seem interested in giving her an explanation. He held out his hand to clasp her arm instead, and his nails were strangely sharp against her skin as it made contact.
“What is your name?”
“It’s Rosa. Rosa Qiangwei.” She answers in obedience to his demand. His skin was cold to the touch and Rosa wonders if it were because of the night chill or it was due to the rising heat of her own bashful self that made the obvious difference. “And I know I should have asked you earlier as well, but may I know your name?”
“You can call me Vyn.”
Vyn. A word that seems so much like victory, she decides. She tries to call out his name in her head, savouring the way the single syllable rolls off her mind’s tongue. She smiles back at him when she hears him do the same.
“It’s a handsome name.”
“Thank you, my dear. I find that your parents are skilled in naming you too.” He speaks as he carries on his personal project that Rosa does not quite understand, his hand sliding from her arm to her palm and the motion gives her goosebumps. Rosa could not help but shiver when his fingers finally tangle with her own.
“Rosa, Rosa.” He chants her name as if a prayer completely enamoured and it makes her cheeks red. “A belle that comes with her own resilient thorns… How adequate. How beautiful and elegant and strong.”
“That’s a wonderful compliment Vyn. But it does make me shy to hear you say it that way, to be honest.”
He raises his eyes to meet her. “Ah, my apologies, dear Rosa. It is just that I am very fond of your name that is all. I could not help myself repeating it.”
“Well, I won’t deny you that pleasure then. My name sounds lovely in your voice.”
“Is it?”
She nods her head. That pleased him more.
“Then I would like you to know that I like the way you speak my name too. Would you do it again for me?”
Vyn’s touch was gentle and cold, more of that a cool stream of water than a bucket of ice. It did not make Rosa feel uncomfortable, instead, it had felt quite natural and she wonders why she does not feel like pushing him away like so many other men when they had tried the exact same thing. Accompanied with the familiar sweet smell she now recognises as Vyn’s cologne that wafted through the air, she could easily imagine herself walking in a meadow in spring, and she can see Vyn in front of her with a hand reaching out.
She takes his hand.
“Vyn.”
“Sublime.” His eyes glittered. They were like enamel and inside them, Rosa could see fire. Something blooms in her heart and it made her shudder. Suddenly she wanted to reach out more, to uncover the sheet of glass and explore their depths.
“Vyn.”
Rosa repeats. She didn’t know why she did it, nor aware of what to expect from her actions. But when Vyn gives her a smile full of satisfaction wider than the one before, something strong and intense succumbs her, a weird euphoria that felt like music to her ears. It sets her heart aflame with such a strange joy she could not explain, like dynamite with a spark that went Boom with violent fireworks. His smile somehow made everything feel exhilarating. And by connection, it made her want to please him more so he would continue to give him whatever drug he is giving her right now. Heavens, she didn't want it to end.
So when the moment for him to let go of her hand arrives and the sweetness in the air fades away, something else seemed to die. Emptiness claws at her chest and Rosa stares at him in the sadness of having something unknown taken away from her, something she has no way to identify. Only knowing that Vyn was the culprit to this sudden demise.
He notices her pout, and so his hand moves to her back, patting her softly to soothe her feelings – those feelings that she never knew where they had come from.
One thing she does know is that she felt alive when he did that magic-like trick with his hand or his eyes, and she would give anything to experience that again. But it was obvious to her the session was over for tonight, so she mourns its loss as Vyn cradles her in his arms.
“It is late.” Vyn’s voice was authoritative, and it made Rosa become a child. Eager to listen and to please. “I want you to return to your room to unpack and take a good sleep. Do not worry about your date with Mr Griffins, he will not come. In fact…” His voice lowers to a purr and it does not escape Rosa’s ears and it makes her jump. “… I can assure you that, after tonight, he would never pursue you again.”
“How would you know that?” She asks.
“I simply do, my dearest rose. You have my word about his Lordship. Now, if there are no further questions, I shall take my leave.”
“Wait!” Rosa cries out, and the desperation in her tone made Vyn look at her with a raised brow. “What is wrong?”
“I…” She tries to unknot her tongue again. The entire ordeal felt like déjà vu, complete with stuttering words and frantic thoughts. “I… was wondering if I can ever see you again in the future, or if I can visit your residence, perhaps? I would need your address if that is so…”
She trails off mid-sentence when she sees his lips move, and her eyes brighten. She makes out the words he says to her, then she remembers saying them back. He nods, and he did something with his fingers – a snap.
And before she could even save his promise to her living being, she suddenly finds herself falling like a marionette without her strings. Whatever negative feelings that remained in her have been washed away like footprints in the sand, and she was drawn to a lull, a sleepful automotive that has no memory but can still move, and she drowns in the sea of dreams with the world gurgling around her like bubbles.
When she has finally washed ashore to reality, Rosa realizes she was tucked in her own bed, safe and sound. Her trunk sat in its quiet corner as if she had never touched it before, immobile.
She stares at the object as if it was a stranger from the blankets. Then she tries to recall the events from last night. She must have fainted and Vyn had brought her in, which was odd because she could not remember herself suffering from random bouts of dizzying spells ever since her childhood. Maybe this was a one-time thing.
Either way, her head felt clear and light, so the sleep might have been worth her time.
When Rosa walks over to the mailbox to check her daily mail, however, her mood worsens when she sees the white envelope on the top of them with the initials of her to-be fiancé. She grumbles, then opts to tear the opening of its seal to reveal the first piece of typewritten papers:
Receipt for twelve-thousand pounds on October 23rd.
She could hardly believe her eyes. “What? Is this some kind of joke? Why would…”
Then it dawned on her that this was the most recent receipt for her payment to Lord Griffins that he had pretended not to exist. This discovery alone was enough to make Rosa retreat to her home, papers and letters in hand to her desk as she opens each letter carefully.
Receipt for ten-thousand nine hundred pounds in September.
Receipt for ten-thousand pounds in August.
Receipt for…
Rosa puts down the papers, a hand cradling her temple as her mind flew. Her heart was pounding so hard it was the only thing she could hear. The missing receipts. They were all here.
But how? She thought they were all lost to natural causes and tardy services. But now they are here and how?
Rosa soon received her answer in the form of an apology letter from Lord Griffins himself, who explained that apparently, he had found these receipts a while ago after some throughout searching – it had got mixed up with some other poor fellow’s receipt and since her record was cleared, it was unlikely that he would ever cross her way in the foreseeable future.
It was good news; no, to say it was good news was a downgrade to what its true nature really was. It was wonderous news worth celebrating with a pop of champagne and a feast with good company. And since she has no champagne nor the money to afford feasts, Rosa decides that she might as well close the Library for the day and go somewhere uptown.
The last letter changes her mind.
It was a neat, peach coloured envelope with a wax seal. Above it signed the name Vyn. The faint smell of roses enveloped her sense as she released the letter from its confines excitedly, and said excitement only served to grow wilder as her eyes scanned onto the simple sentences written with an elegant hand.
Tonight, I will visit you at your place. I look forward to our meeting, dearest Rosa, and I hope you would share the same feelings as me.
Vyn.
Rosa grins. It seems tonight would be exhilarating after all. She thinks to herself as she keeps the letter in the drawer near her right hand, close to her belongings and the small stack of thin storybooks from her childhood. She could hardly wait for the sun to go down the hills as quick as time allows, and it was time with Vyn. She had to make sure everything was perfect. Perfect and fit enough for someone like Vyn.
With that last thought in mind, she walks out to prepare herself for the day, a wide smile on her face.
On the back of her slender neck covered by hair and sight, however, the twin puncture marks evade her notice.