Nicole couldn’t possibly sleep in her soiled attire after showering.
Therefore, Roscoe kindly provided her with a black T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, which belonged to him.
Nicole stood there in a daze for a moment. It felt a bit strange to wear his clothes.
Roscoe reassured her, “They’re new. I washed them but haven’t worn them yet.”
During times when there were no tasks from the Watts family, Roscoe would often spend the night here, leaving some of his belongings downstairs.
His explanation made Nicole feel a bit melodramatic. After all, they were just clothes. Even if Roscoe had worn them, so what? She accepted them graciously and replied, “Thank you.”
Roscoe then passed her a bottle of lotion, suggesting, “You might want to apply this to your feet and elbows later.”
He observed those areas of Nicole’s had been grazed.
“And additionally…” Roscoe paused, retrieving a document from his pocket and passing it to Nicole. “These are confidential dealings between the Watts and Schultz families. It might prove useful to you.”
With those words, Roscoe exited, shutting the door behind him.
Nicole gripped the document tightly, her thoughts racing. Despite the unlawful nature of the situation, Roscoe’s actions unquestionably constituted a betrayal of the Watts family.
The weight of the document in her hand suddenly felt burdensome, causing her hand to ache. What repercussions would Roscoe face if the Watts family discovered his actions… She refrained from contemplating it.
‘s
After showering, Nicole emerged from the bathroom.
Nicole donned Roscoe’s attire. However, they proved excessively long, prompting her to knot the T-shirt at the side and roll up the pants to expose her ankles.
Following a blow-dry session, she felt parched, possibly from the steam. Hence, she descended to the kitchen for water.
As Nicole entered the living room, she noticed a faint smell of blood. It was quite strong.
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She glanced downward and spotted her recently removed jacket. The scent appeared to emanate from it.
With a single hand, she raised it, examining it closely. Dried bloodstains adorned the chest of the black leather jacket. Its matte finish had obscured them from her notice previously.
Yet, she hadn’t sustained any injuries. So, could this blood be…
Nicole pivoted and made her way to Roscoe’s door.
Finding it unlocked, Nicole swung it open without a second thought.
“Roscoe, what…” she began, but the sight before her cut her words short.
Roscoe was perched on a stool, clumsily dressing wounds that marred his back. A deep laceration ran from his shoulder to his lower back.
Struggling to reach the injury, his efforts to apply medicine were ineffective, and the bleeding hadn’t stopped.