Roselia would one day freeze to death under Kallum's frigid glower. His dagger eyes yearned to stab her multiple times in the heart as he watched Cruden carry her upstairs. She shuddered at the thought of him who despised the very air she breathed.
"Why does Kallum hate me?" Roselia had the guts to ask.
"He doesn't hate you," Cruden said. "Just the idea of you."
Roselia contemplated his words, trying to decipher them without his help. Soon, they reached her bedroom where Cruden lowered her onto her bed, but she clung to him tightly.
Cruden paused mid-air. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want to stay here…" Roselia mumbled, feeling like a child.
"Are you traumatized by this room?" Cruden responded in realization, pulling her back onto him again. She tightened her grasp on his neck and shoulders, slowly nodding her head.
"Why does Kallum hate the idea of me?" Roselia asked in an attempt to change the topic.
