𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 [18+]

29.1: Vitalitas

Vitalitas (Latin): Life force.

Petit a petit, loiseau fait son nid (Little by little, the bird makes it's nest)

- French Proverb.

Rose's POV:

It was weird.

The way the silent night mingled into the bustling cacophony of the airport and their transition- It was truly overwhelming.

I liked to stand in front of the main airport of Oxford. It was very far from the chamber that I had come to call home for past month, but yet, I liked standing here for no absolute reason.

I liked to reminisce what I had left behind.

I liked to remember what was once mine.

A gust of cold wind blew, stroking my form. My fists balled automatically.

When I had stepped on Oxford, something unknown had immediately lit up my senses. It wasn't elusive like London, but wasn't shabby either.

It had a gentle aura roaming around it, from people's smile to their walking style, everything screamed softness.

I remember hailing a taxi cab, showing him my ID and plane ticket, requesting him to take me to the cheapest hotel that was safe for women.

The driver had lead the vehicle through the poorer side of the region. It was shabbier and more unprepossessing than my previous home. I remember thinking of it as 'more human' as the car moved cutting the mist of the blowing wind.

I sighed, my mind replaying the memories for the umpteenth time.

It didn't take me long to find a suitable place for me. It was small yet comfortable place, a bit stinky, but safe and the rent was reasonable too.

Most importantly, it was located in a secluded arena.

The bustles and hurries of the people was spot on as they rushed out from the airport gate. Some had glasses over their faces, some had phones latched on their ears- all was busy- not seeming to care about the girl who had been standing there for an hour.

I scratched my right arm as I felt a mosquito bite. These annoying creatures should go extinct.

My eyes felt like as if they were made out of granite. I felt nothing, not a thing whatsoever.

I was numb.

It had been going like this for the past month.

Yes, there were constant nightmares. Every single night I would dream of my foster dad molesting my 6 year old body, torturing me until I couldn't take it anymore.

I would scream, cry, beg for help, writhe and holler until my vocal cords couldn't take anymore and then I would wake up.

Realizing that all of it was a nightmare.