The Devil And His Rose

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: An Unwanted Fate



Rose had been sitting tensely on the edge of the plush sofa in her parents' bedroom, her fingers gripping the cushion beneath her as the doctor checked her mother over.

The room felt suffocating, heavy with the weight of unspoken tension. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at her mother's pale face, willing her to be alright.

When the doctor finally spoke, confirming it was nothing more than a minor shock, Rose let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Relief washed over her like a wave, though confusion quickly replaced it.

A little shock? About what?, Her birthday? Since when did birthdays become breaking news?

She leaned back into the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest, her mind racing.

The doctor packed his things, exchanged a few murmured words with her father, and left. Silence fell over the room like a thick fog.

Rose's eyes followed her father as he took a seat beside Becca, his hand finding hers. They whispered in low tones, their heads close together.

Occasionally, their eyes flickered toward her, only to dart away again. They were talking about her. She was sure of it.

Rose shifted uncomfortably, her nails tapping against the armrest.

Seriously? Gossiping about me right in front of me? She scoffed internally, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.

Her mother's hoarse voice shattered her thoughts. "Rose, my love, come closer, please."

Rose straightened, her irritation melting into concern. She stood and crossed the room, her steps hesitant.

Sitting beside them, she felt her mother's hands take hers, soft but trembling slightly.

"Mama, is everything alright?" Her voice was cautious, edged with confusion.

She searched her mother's eyes, then her father's, but their expressions were unreadable.

James exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face as if steeling himself. "Your mother and I have something to tell you," he said. His voice was low, serious.

Rose's stomach churned as her father began to speak.

"When your mother was pregnant with you…" James's words were slow, deliberate, as though each one carried a weight too heavy to bear.

He explained everything. The desperate deal. The promise made. The price they didn't fully understand until later.

His voice faltered once, then twice, but he kept going, skimming over certain details—like who the deal had truly been with.

Rose listened, her face betraying nothing, though her mind reeled. Her heart raced as the words sank in. Her eighteenth birthday wasn't a celebration; it was a deadline.

By the time James finished, the room fell into silence again.

Rose's brows furrowed, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. She searched their faces, waiting for the punchline, for them to laugh and tell her it was all an elaborate joke.

But they didn't.

They just sat there, watching her, their eyes heavy with guilt and worry.

Rose blinked, once, twice. What?

Anger didn't come, though she waited for it, tried to summon it. Instead, something entirely different settled over her—a strange, unsettling calm.

It felt… comforting? No, that wasn't the right word. It felt like she was being tethered to something. Something unknown but not entirely foreign.

She shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of her emotions. She should be angry, right?

She should hate her father for making such a reckless deal, for trading away her future. But she couldn't.

How could she hate the man who had given her life? Without his decision, she wouldn't be here. She wouldn't have her siblings, her family, her memories.

Still, she wanted to feel something—something normal. Anger, resentment, even fear.

Instead, all she felt was a quiet resignation, tinged with a sadness she couldn't quite place.

Her gaze lifted to meet her parents'. Their concern was palpable, etched into every line of their faces. They were watching her, waiting for her to break, to scream, to lash out.

She didn't.

"What about the twins?" she asked finally, her voice soft but steady. "And the girls? What about you both?"

Her throat tightened, and for the first time, sadness bled into her tone. "What about my best friends?"

Her parents exchanged a look but said nothing.

Tears pricked at the corners of Rose's eyes. She wiped them away quickly, but they kept falling, spilling over as the weight of it all pressed down on her.

"What about me?" she whispered, her voice cracking. The question hung in the air, heavy and raw.

For the first time, fear crept in. Real, bone-deep fear.

Her mind raced with a thousand questions. Would the demon let her visit her family?

Would he even let her leave wherever he took her? Would she still be Rose, or would she become something else entirely?

Her breath hitched. "Mum, Dad, I'm scared," she admitted, her voice breaking. Her hands trembled in her mother's grip. "Please… there has to be something we can do about this. Anything."

Becca's face crumpled, tears pooling in her eyes. James looked away, his jaw clenched tightly, his hand gripping Becca's for support.

Rose's tears fell freely now, her chest heaving as the weight of it all crushed her. She had never felt so small, so powerless.

Her parents had always been her anchors, her protectors. But now, they looked as lost as she felt.

"What if we arrange for her to leave the city?" Becca's voice trembled, her words rushed, but there was a glimmer of hope in her tone.

For the first time, Rose felt a flicker of relief. It sounded like a way out, a lifeline in the chaos.

But James's response shattered it almost immediately. "Then he kills us and goes after her still," he said, his voice firm, his expression grim.

There was no sugar-coating it, no gentle way to deliver the truth. He had learned long ago that facing reality was the only way to survive, even when it hurt.

James hadn't witnessed the full extent of that creature's power on the day he made the deal, but the overwhelming presence alone had been enough to haunt him ever since.

Whatever that being was, it wasn't comparable to the everyday demons they lived alongside.

It was something else entirely—something that defied comprehension and demanded respect through fear.

Becca sank back, her shoulders slumping, the hope in her eyes dimming.

Rose could see the battle in her mother's mind, the desperate need to protect her child clashing with the brutal reality of the situation.

James exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Get ready," he said finally, his voice heavy. "He'll be here soon."

The words hung in the air, suffocating. They were simple but carried a weight that pressed down on Rose's chest like a boulder.

James stood, straightening his posture as though bracing himself for a fight he knew he couldn't win.

"I'll go explain the situation to your siblings," he said, his tone clipped, as if forcing himself to focus on the practicalities instead of the fear clawing at him.

But before he could take a step, Rose's hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength. "Dad, no," she said, her voice urgent.

Her blue eyes locked onto his, wide with a mixture of fear and determination. "No one must know of this."


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