The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6-9: Rock Bottom

Bella POV

At the next stop, he alighted. I breathed a sigh of relief, my body trembling as the bus pulled away again.

I pressed my palm against my stomach, against the tiny life growing there. The only good thing to come from that catastrophic night.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to my unborn child. “I’m sorry your father is a monster. I’m sorry your mother was stupid enough to believe he could be anything else. I’ll build us an empire,” I said softly, my hand pressed to my stomach. “I’ll build something so big, so powerful, that when we walk back into that city, they’ll have no choice but to see us. To acknowledge us, to regret every single thing they did.”

The bus hummed along the highway, carrying me toward Crestwood, toward an uncertain future, toward whatever came next. Behind me, Silverton faded into the distance like a bad dream.

The bus pulled into Crestwood at 3:47 AM, depositing me at a station that was little more than a covered bench and a flickering streetlight. The rain had stopped somewhere during the ride, leaving the air cold and damp, smelling of wet concrete and exhaust fumes.

I stood on the sidewalk with my suitcase, watching the bus pull away, its taillights disappearing around a corner. Then I was alone in a strange city with forty-seven dollars and nowhere to go.

My phone was off. I couldn’t risk turning it on, even though I had discarded the sim. A 24-hour diner glowed across the street, its neon sign reading “Rosie’s” in flickering pink letters. Through the window, I could see a handful of people-night shift workers.

I crossed the street and pushed through the door, a bell chiming overhead. The smell of coffee and grease hit me immediately, and my stomach growled despite everything. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. The wedding reception, maybe, picking at a plate of food while everyone else celebrated.

“Sit anywhere, hon.” A waitress in her fifties looked up from the counter, her name tag reading “Deb.” She had kind eyes, the kind that had seen too much but still chose to be warm.

I slid into a booth near the back, my suitcase tucked against the wall. The vinyl seat was cracked and patched with duct tape, nothing like the luxury I’d left behind. It felt more like home than the Black estate ever had.

Deb appeared with a coffee pot and a menu that had seen better days. “You look like you’ve had a night.”

I almost laughed. “You could say that.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.” I wrapped my hands around the mug when she poured, letting the warmth seep into my frozen fingers. “And… What’s the cheapest thing on the menu?”

Her eyes softened. “How cheap are we talking?”

“I have forty-seven dollars to last me until I figure out my life.”

She studied me for a moment, taking in my soaked clothes, my smudged makeup, the way my hands

<Chapter 69 Rock-Bottom

+25 Points

shook around the mug. Then she tucked the menu under her arm and walked away without a word.

+ thought I’d offended her until she came back five minutes later with a plate piled high with pancakes,

eggs, bacon, and toast. “I didn’t order”

“On the house.” She set it down in front of me. “You eat. I’ll pretend I forgot to charge you.”

My throat tightened. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything. I’m doing it because I’ve been where you are, and someone helped me once.” She refilled my coffee. “Eat before it gets cold.”

I picked up my fork with trembling hands and took a bite. The food was simple, probably the same pancake mix and eggs they’d been serving for years, but it tasted like salvation. I ate slowly, trying to make it last, trying not to think about when I’d eat again.

“You got a place to stay?” Deb asked, wiping down the counter nearby.

“Not yet. I just got off the bus from Silverton.”

“Silverton.” She whistled low. “Long way to come at 4 AM with one suitcase.”

“I needed a fresh start.”

She nodded like that explained everything. “There’s a women’s shelter about six blocks from here. St. Catherine’s. They take walk-ins, no questions asked. It’s clean, safe, and they’ll help you figure out your next steps.”

A shelter. The word should’ve felt humiliating, but instead it felt like a lifeline. “Thank you.”

“No problem, hon.” She paused, then pulled a pen from behind her ear and scribbled an address on a napkin. “That’s the address. Tell them Deb sent you. They know me.”

I folded the napkin carefully and tucked it into my pocket. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because someone has to.” She shrugged like it was simple. “And because I see that look in your eyes, You’re not broken yet. You’re just bent, there is a difference.”

Bent but broken. I held onto those words like they were a prayer. By the time the sun rose, I was standing outside St. Catherine’s with my suitcase and Deb’s napkin clutched in my fist. The building was old brick, three stories, with a small garden out front that someone clearly cared for despite the season.

A woman in her forties answered the door, her grey-streaked hair pulled back in a practical bun. “Can I help you?”

“Deb sent me.” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “From Rosie’s Diner. She said, “You might have space?”

The woman’s expression softened immediately. “Any friend of Deb’s is welcome here. I’m Sister Agnes.” She stepped back to let me in. “Come on, let’s get you set up.”

The shelter was clean but crowded, filled with women and children in various states of crisis. Some were clearly fleeing abuse, sporting bruises they tried to hide. Others looked shell-shocked, like they couldn’t quite believe they’d ended up here. A few children played quietly in a corner, their laughter subdued.

2/3

<Chapter 69-Roek-Bottom

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