Once upon a time I believed I was destined for greatness, for something, anything, beyond the small, rural town of Obscurum. The belief dissipated into a whimsical dream with age, once I realized that no matter the need, the want, there was no leaving this place. I'd forever walk the desolate streets, only meeting the judgmental gazes of neighbors and bitter townsfolk when stepping into businesses. I'd eventually have to settle down with one of the immature men that I'd side eyed since we had baby teeth.

Dad had always been my escape. We'd spent twenty-two years attached at the hip, wherever he went, I wasn't far behind. Our relationship was something that garnered much attention from the townsfolk, as they wouldn't understand family or love if it hit them in the face with the force of a freight train. Despite it, they had an entire book, front to back cover, of gossip about my family. It'd been this way since I was born.

Some rumored that my father had killed my mother; others weren't so gruesome. They'd assumed she'd left me as a child to finally break free of this hell and spread her wings.

The only truth in what was said was my mother's absence. I never met her, she'd left when I was only an infant, though my father kept photos of her in the hall, unwilling to part with the memory of the woman he loved.

However much the town liked to talk about us, nothing came remotely close to the disappearance of Kieran Blackwell. Seventeen and top of the class, star quarterback-gone in an instant. There had been search parties for weeks, delving into the wilderness on the outskirts of town, trudging through the thick of trees and overgrown weeds. They came back empty handed and offered the condolences to his parents without a definite answer.

That had been five years ago and to this day I still hear whispers of the golden boy in passing at stores, church, and school.

As I drove the winding rode up to the mansion, I wished for nothing more than a chance to return to those little fantastical worlds I'd created with him so long ago.

He had passed a little over a month ago, but it still felt as though it were yesterday the police stirred me awake in the earliest hours of the night to break the news to me. I hadn't reacted then, outside of a blank stare and my mouth hanging open for a while. It took my father's will being sorted through for reality to smack me in the face full force and I hadn't quite been able to shake myself from the depression since. I'd spent the last two weeks packing our belongings, knowing very well I wouldn't be able to pay the rent. It'd been just after the funeral that my father's attorney returned to me with the lease of a house. My great grandfather's estate to me exact. I'd known of its existence, and according to my father, had visited as a child, but hadn't been in over ten years.

But it was a roof over my head without the worry of owing rent.

If it wasn't bad enough my father was gone and I was truly alone in the world now, I could hear the hushed whispers and feel the lingering eyes that trailed me everywhere I went now. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I found the bitter taste in my mouth every time I climbed into my fathers car and had to head into town.

"Remember, Rosie." Dad had told me my entire life with a mischievous glint in his honeysuckle eyes. "Roses have thorns. But they're also one of the most beautiful flowers to exist. Never settle for less than your worth, and never allow a weed or speck of dirt to bring you down."

As I inched into the driveway at the top of the road, I pressed the button on the small remote to open the gates leading onto the property. I watched in silence as the gate creaked and groaned until it was wide enough to pull my fathers old Mustang through. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or irritated to find the movers sitting on the edge of truck, all three chugging water bottles. I suppose if they had finished, there wasn't an issue, but if I trudged up to that truck and found it packed to the brim, they'd hear it.

The minute I opened the door, all three heads whipped in my direction and I straightened in hopes I didn't look as intimidated as I felt. This had all been so last minute I'd had no choice but to take some of my fathers savings to rent some movers. There was no way I could move the furniture into the place on my own and I had nobody back in Obscurum that would be openly willing to help without something in it for them.

"Rosaelie." the shortest of the three movers lifted his water and nodded in agreement. I forced a smile, sure it came across as more of a grimace.

I had no desire to sit as the center of attention to three men in their twenties.

As I approached, the shortest one stood, his dark hair matted against his forehead with sweat, didn't even budge with the sudden action.

"We got everything loaded in, Ma'am."

I scrunched my nose at the use of the word. "Everything?"

"Yep." he offered a weak smile. "You might want to call an exterminator in though. There's some gnarly cobwebs in there. I'd hate to see the thing that crafted them."

I raised a brow. I'd only done a quick walk through of the building a week and a half ago.

"Okay, thanks." I shrugged my purse off my shoulder and dug my wallet out. "Seriously, thank you. I appreciate all of you."

He smiled, and for the first time since I'd walked up, I felt bad for not taking the time to even remember their names.

"Sure, Rosealie. You know where to find us if you need any more help." he took the money, then counted it out and dispersed it between the three of them. "Good luck with. . . this place."

I waved him off with a weak smile, happy to watch one of the other movers follow close behind. However, the tallest of the three remained seated a few inches away, his eyes the color of an overcast sky. I hadn't bothered to stare at any of them long enough to see if they were attractive. As he stood I found my head tilting back ever so slightly to take him in.

"You sure you're going to be okay in this big ol' place by yourself?" he asked. I tried to put a name to the face, but all three movers had been students at OU from out of state. "You don't have any family to come help you?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm here because my father passed."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"Nope."

"Mother?"

"Dunno where she is."

He frowned. "Damn."

"I'll be okay." I assured. "Spend your entire life in Obscurum and you can handle anything. This will be Childs play in comparison."

His frowned twitched into a hint of a smile. "Gage Bennett."

I extended my hand. "Rosealie Callahan, but you already knew that."

"Sure, but introductions are always nice." he took my hand in his own. My eyes slowly fell from his face to his large, calloused hands, wrapping my small, dainty one in his own. "Here, I'll give you my number in case you need help and don't want to deal with those idiots. Or you know, just need some company in this place."

I was taken back by the words, but pulled my phone out so we could exchange numbers. Hearing the guy was willing to drive an hour out of town at my beck and call couldn't possibly be just a nice gesture. He undoubtedly had other motives.

"Bye, Rosealie."

"Rose." I corrected, then coughed and added, "Rose is fine."

He smirked, starting to back away. "Alright, Rose. Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too, Gage." I waved. "Thanks again."

He offered a two-finger salute before turning his back to me and jogging down the driveway to the car his friends awaited him in. I waited until they'd pulled out and the gate shut behind them to throw my purse back over my shoulder and shut the back of the truck. Once I was done, I made my way up the stone pathway that led to the front door.

My shorter mover hadn't been lying, there was a nasty cobweb over the front door, and I nearly ran into the house in the case that the spider had returned momentarily just to scare me out of its home. Given that it was the only living thing that'd been in this house in a decade, I might just let him have it.

Once I'd kicked the door shut behind me, I crossed the room to draw the curtains and cried when a bunch of dust fell from the blinds and covered the top of my hands. I shook my head and finished drawing the blinds, cringing at the crunching sound they made. They were likely brittle from the sun exposure; I'd need to buy new ones as soon as possible.

I tore my eyes from the old window to the Persian rug under my feet. My light gray modern couch looked so peculiar against the awful washed out nineteenth century wallpaper to its back. I dusted my hands off and headed for the hall-the best part of the mansion.

A spiral staircase, though missing a few stairs, twisted an turned for two stories to and spat you right out at the entrance of one of the grandest libraries I'd had the privilege to be in. Towering bookcases went on for the entire length of the room, each lined with hundreds of books of varying genres and ages. If I sat down and went through them, I was sure there were probably some first editions in them.

Between where I stood and the library, however, were two stories of empty bedrooms. Eight total. On the floor stretched out before me, the rooms were staggered, all in different places, nonparallel to the other. The second floor, though, were perfect parallel with one another. The architect who'd built this place must have had fun.

"This place does give me the jeebies." I grumbled miserably as my eyes flickered to the hallway décor. They were paintings. Some were portraits, others abstracts of nothing but color splotches. "I hate this."

I'd reached a new level of insanity having conversations with myself, but nobody was around to listen, so I guess I was safe for now. Honestly, probably safer from my thoughts than I had been the last twenty years.

As I moved passed the grand staircase and down the hall, I paused when I caught sight of a door at the end of the hallway. I hadn't seen it when I'd done the walk through. It was probably just a storage room or basement-neither of which I had any intention of adventuring through on my own, especially with the sun setting. I started to back away and spun on my heel to stare at the boxes that littered the kitchen and ugly living room, still having full knowledge I had more in the room I'd chosen on the second floor. I'd leave it for tomorrow. For now, I'd get some rest, if possible.

I found the room with ease, but cocked my head to the side when I found a red rose on top of the stack of books the movers must have accidently spilt from one of my boxes and had been too lazy to pack back up. I reached for the flower, cursing when I was pricked by one of the thorns. I retracted my hand and watched as blood pooled at the tip of my index finger. I flung the blood off and returned to the flower, smiling at the thought of the mover, Gage, having left it behind for me to find. I opened one of my books and set it as a book mark inside before turning around and preparing my bed for the night.