Younger version of Rose stood frozen in the cold, dimly lit room, her whole body trembling as her wide eyes locked onto the figure in front of her. A man clad in black, his face hidden behind a mask, held a gun pointed directly at her. Another man stood behind him, similarly dressed, his stance equally menacing. It all felt like a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from a terrible, surreal dream that clung to her, trapping her in its grip.
The man with the gun shifted slightly, adjusting his aim at Rose, treating her as if she were nothing more than a target. "Sorry, kiddo. It's just business, no hard feelings," he said with a mockery that cut deep, his voice carrying a chilling indifference. Each word made her blood run colder, and she felt her heart hammering faster, the sound filling her ears. Every beat seemed to echo through her body, amplifying her terror as her gaze remained fixed on the barrel pointed at her chest.
