Bloody Rose

The Day It Broke

Rose’s POV

The days leading up to my escape were the worst yet. Keith’s behavior grew darker, more volatile, like something inside him was constantly unraveling.

He was always on edge now, jumping at the slightest sound, drowning himself deeper in alcohol. And that was when I knew for certain that something was wrong.

Something big was happening.

Something he was hiding.

And as always, I paid the price for it.

Whenever I tried to ask what was going on, he would only explode. His anger would spill over into me, like I was the closest thing he could break without consequences. A shove here. A harsh grip there. Words that cut deeper than anything physical.

So I stopped asking.

I learned to stay quiet.

But there was one thing keeping me alive through it all.

Freedom.

Just five days.

I repeated it in my head like a prayer.

Just five days. Hold on. Just five days.

........................................................

Day five arrived like a silent shock.

“It’s finally time,” I whispered to myself as I paced around the room, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my ribs.

I did not know exactly how Zena planned to get me out. She never gave details. Only promises. But I trusted her. She was all I had left.

So I waited.

I waited for the call that would change everything.

Hours passed.

Nothing.

I checked my phone again and again until my hands started to shake.

Still nothing from Zena.

“She will call soon,” I told myself out loud, forcing calm into my voice. “She promised. She always comes through.”

But the silence kept stretching.

Time dragged.

Each passing minute felt heavier than the last.

“Ugh… this cannot be happening,” I groaned, grabbing a glass of brandy and drinking too fast just to silence my nerves.

Then—

Boom.

A loud crash echoed from downstairs.

I froze.

The glass slipped slightly in my hand.

My entire body went cold.

Was Keith home?

Was he angry?

Was this another one of his moods spiraling out of control?

Or worse…

Was he coming for me?

My mind spiraled immediately, filling every gap with fear.

I could not stay there.

I could not wait to be found.

I moved quickly, grabbing my shoes and stepping out of the room as quietly as I could. My feet barely touched the stairs as I descended, careful not to make a sound.

The house felt different.

Too still in some places.

Too loud for others.

Every shadow looked like him.

Every silence felt like danger.

Halfway down the stairs, I stopped.

Something felt wrong.

Too wrong.

Before I could react, a hand grabbed me from behind.

Another covered my mouth.

My scream was swallowed instantly.

Panic exploded through my chest.

No. No. No.

This was it.

This was how it ended.

My body fought back instinctively, twisting, kicking, trying to break free. But the grip was stronger. Controlled. Deliberate.

I was lifted slightly, then turned in one sharp motion.

And I saw them.

A masked face.

Close.

Too close.

My breath caught.

Those eyes.

They hit me instantly.

Sharp. Intense. Unmoving.

They pulled me in like gravity itself had shifted.

For a moment, fear and something else collided inside me.

I stopped struggling.

I should have been terrified.

But I wasn’t only terrified.

I was… stuck.

The masked figure held me steady as I stared, unable to look away. My heartbeat slowed in confusion, like my body did not know how to react anymore.

Without thinking, I reached up toward the mask.

I needed to see.

I needed to know.

But my wrist was caught mid-air.

Held gently, but firmly.

A warning without words.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever.

No movement.

No sound.

Just tension suspended between us.

Then, just as suddenly, the figure released me.

Stepped back.

Created distance like I had crossed an invisible line.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then the stranger spoke.

“When he wakes up,” the voice said low and controlled, “tell him his debt will be paid in blood next time.”

And just like that, the figure turned and walked away.

Gone.

I stood there frozen, my mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

My gaze drifted around the living room in confusion.

And then I saw him.

Keith.

On the floor.

Unconscious.

My stomach dropped.

I rushed to him instantly, dropping to my knees and pressing two trembling fingers to his neck.

A pulse.

Weak, but there.

He was alive.

“He… he is alive,” I whispered, half relieved, half horrified.

My eyes darted around the room.

“What is happening… this was not the plan,” I said aloud, my voice breaking as I stood and began pacing in panic.

Then I felt it.

A light touch on my shoulder.

I flinched so hard my entire body jolted.

I turned quickly.

“Rose.”

Zena.

Relief hit me so hard it almost knocked the breath out of me.

I ran into her arms immediately, gripping her like she was the only stable thing left in the world.

“Someone was here,” I cried. “Someone masked. He did something to Keith.”

“I know,” she said calmly, holding me tighter. “I saw the van leaving.”

My head snapped up.

“You saw it?”

“I couldn’t stop it,” she added. “No jurisdiction here.”

My breathing was still uneven, my mind still racing.

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “He is unconscious. That man… whoever he was…”

Zena glanced at Keith and gave a small, almost satisfied smile.

“That does not matter anymore.”

My stomach tightened.

“What?”

She crouched beside Keith and pulled out a syringe.

“We take advantage of it.”

Before I could question her, she injected something into his arm.

“This will keep him out longer,” she said. “Long enough for us to leave safely.”

My chest tightened.

This was moving too fast.

Too final.

Zena stood and suddenly began moving through the room, scattering things deliberately. Chairs overturned. Frames shattered. Books torn open. Curtains ripped down.

“Zena…” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Creating truth,” she said simply.

Then she turned to me.

“Rose. This will hurt.”

Before I could process her words, she pressed a blade lightly against my skin.

I flinched as pain followed immediately.

A cut.

Warm blood.

My breath shook.

She guided my hand and smudged blood onto the floor, the walls, the furniture. Then she placed the knife carefully into Keith’s hand.

My head spun.

“Zena…” I whispered again, weaker now. “This feels wrong.”

“It feels necessary,” she replied.

Then she cut a lock of my hair and scattered it across the room, moving from the bedroom to the living room as every detail mattered.

Like she was writing a story in chaos.

When she finished, she stood and looked at me.

“Now go pack anything valuable,” she said firmly.

My hands trembled as I nodded and moved.

Minutes later, I came back down with what I could carry.

“Zena…” I said softly. “Are you sure this will work?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“This is what we planned for.”

She took my hand.

“Let’s go.”

I turned one last time toward Keith.

The man who had once controlled my entire world.

Now lying unconscious in the ruins of it.

And for the first time…

I walked away.

Through the back door.

Into what I hoped was freedom.