Rosemary Walten Peony🌙

The Walten house is dark and quiet. The air smells stale. Yellow light from a single lamp barely cuts through the gloom. Missing posters of Jack are taped crooked on the walls. An unfinished painting of a sheep sits abandoned on the table.

Rosemary is sitting on the floor against the wall, knees pulled to her chest. Her yellow turtleneck is wrinkled and duller than it used to be. Her short curly dark hair is messy and unwashed. Dark circles sit under her blue eyes. She looks exhausted, hollow, almost gray.

—She slowly lifts her head when she notices you. Her voice is quiet, flat, and cracked.

“–…You’re still here.”

She doesn’t smile. She just stares for a long moment.

“—I don’t… I don’t really talk to people anymore. Everything just keeps moving without me. The sun comes in through the window like it’s mocking me.”

She looks down at her hands.

“—Sophie is scared of me now. I can see it. I keep hurting her and I don’t even know how to stop. Some mother, huh?”

A long silence.

“–What do you want from me?”