FINDING SOLACE

(Thompson White's Mansion - 6:51 AM)

Roseline lay curled up on the bed in one of the four visitors' rooms the mansion had. Her eyes were closed, but her mind wandered actively.

As she lay there motionless, her slow breathing started to become hot against the hard factory nylon that covered the mattress below her skin.

Sighing weakly, she turned to face the ceiling, causing the hard nylon cover of the bed to make some squeaky noise. She sighed again, bitterly.

Stretching her legs below her as far as she could to release the tension she felt around her waist, Roseline let out a low groan, the factory nylon wrap of the mattress scratching through her slim pajamas to her skin with her every movement.

With her eyes still closed, she started to roll away from the bed, her legs positioned in a way to meet the ground before her body.

But her legs met the ground faster than she had thought, and her body followed freely, causing her to land with a soft thud on the hard tiled floor.

"Ouch!" she gasped, her eyes flipping open almost immediately. That was when it all came back to her.

The previous day, after the heated conversation with Thompson, she had turned and walked out on him and up the stairs, her stomach rumbling in response to her every step.

Just as she approached the room, her breathing became heavier. Her vision began to blur too. She shook her head several times to help her eyes focus, but to no avail.

Stopping in her tracks, she dragged her feet toward the closest wall in front of her eyes, pushing her entire body onto it and shutting her eyes close as she proceeded to take slow, deep breaths.

She had merely breathed in and out twice when she heard Thompson climbing up the stairs. Next, his voice met her ears. It was hard, agitated—everything but affectionate, far from concerned.

She didn't want to face him then. So, lifting herself from the wall with a crippling unease, she wobbled away from the door of the room in front of her.

Clicking open the door of the first visitors' room, she closed it almost immediately. It wasn't the one.

The Thompson White mansion had five bedrooms, one of which was the only furnished—the one Roseline shared with Thompson since after she moved in with him. The rest had automatically become visitors' rooms.

They were supposed to be extra rooms for visitors that might need to stay the night, but they didn't have any beds in them.

The cleaners just made sure they were sparkling neat and tidy, but they were empty. No curtains. No beds.

The only one that had a bed was courtesy of Roseline. Sometime before her travel, she was worried that someone might need to visit and end up sleeping on a cold floor or in the living room.

It was such a big mansion, and it would be awkward if that happened. So, she bought a mattress—not as expensive as the one Thompson bought for their own room and certainly not as luxurious.

Thompson threw a huge fit after he discovered the purchase.

"You didn't need to do this, Roseline," he had said after he called her out one morning to the open door of the room where she had placed the mattress.

"I felt like we should..." Roseline had tried to validate her action, but Thompson cut her off.

"There won't be any visitors for now."

That was how the room ended up having only an unboxed mattress, without bed frames even.

Roseline's thoughts weighed heavily on her as she moved past the room to the next one. She didn't want to believe what she was thinking—that Thompson might raise his hand on her.

It had never happened before, and she didn't believe it would, ever.

But again, she felt like a different person with the train of thoughts she had been having since the morning, and worse still, Thompson's reaction to it was unusual.

A series of unusual happenings—there was room for more. Right?

Roseline swallowed, her legs trembling as she moved. She did not want to run.

What was she running away from?

Thompson? Why?

These questions bumped against each other in her head. She didn't see any reason why she should be running away to hide when she hadn't done anything.

She did her best to convince herself not to run, but her steps quickened, her strides short but fast. Then, before she knew it, she was running, her heart pumping hard.

Grabbing the handle of the door of the next room her eyes met, she clicked it open to see the mattress on the floor, close to the wall with the window whose glass reflected the beautiful city night lights.

With one deep breath, her face softened into calmness—the type that came from escaping a danger that was threatening to engulf you.

"Roseline!" Thompson's voice echoed from behind her, causing her heart to skip a beat before her body swiftly disappeared into the room, and her fingers proceeded to bolt the door locked.

But her fingers had barely left the door after locking it from the inside when heavy bangs landed on its wooden surface from the outside, causing Roseline to jerk hard.

She came crashing down on the floor, her body trembling uncontrollably with fearful anxiety.

"Open up, Roseline!" Thompson growled as he continued to bang heavily on the door.

"You're being strange right now. You know, right?" Thompson yelled, his muscles hard and his eyes vibrating in their sockets as they stared down at the door.

If only stares could bore holes in surfaces.

On the other side of the door, Roseline sat crippled on the floor, her hands frozen beside her and her chest pounding harder than ever before.

She shut her eyes tight, causing her world to go pitch black. Then, focusing on her breathing, she counted the rising and falling of her pulse slowly.

One... two... three... four... five... six...

And Thompson's voice began to fade away from the reach of her hearing.

Roseline's stomach rumbled loudly on the floor where she lay, and she clutched it with her hands, her eyes looking toward the window. The world outside was bright, but her intestines twisted from hunger.

She could not even remember the last time she ate now. Her stomach continued to rumble, but she was too weak to even stand up.

She remembered everything that happened the previous day, but strangely enough, she still could not remember what it was she was struggling to recall leading to the argument with Thompson.

The thought of it made her entire body stiff, but right now, she was too hungry to even think properly.

She didn't have her phone to confirm what time it was, but outside looked pretty bright, and she took her chance to believe that Thompson had already left for work, as she didn't think she was ready to talk to him about all of it yet.

Dragging herself up from the floor, she managed to walk to the door, but as she reached for the bolt, a soft knock landed on it from the other end.