Disclaimers:
Trauma Team property of Atlus
If I Die Young performed by The Band Perry
Song lyrics from songlyrics . com
If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
A young girl sat in an oversized, worn-out chair, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She had been moved from another orphanage that had been shut down due to health code violations, and was sitting in the office, awaiting instructions from the head. She had to get up at 7:30, extra early for the move, and her five year old body was resisting. She yawned and began to close her petal pink eyes. The middle-aged woman behind the desk looked up from her paperwork and smiled.
"Come, let's go to your room," the woman said, tucking a few stray strands of dark brown hair behind her ear. The little girl nodded lethargically and slid off the chair on to her feet, dragging her duffle bag behind her. The two walked down the hallway decorated with a hunter green and rose pink floral wallpaper and photographs of the residents of the building for each year of its existence. Arriving at a plain, birch wood door, the woman turned the tarnished doorknob and pushed forward. The young girl peered into the eyes of the three girls that would be her roommates and tried to smile. However, she found that she couldn't and instead looked at her feet. The girls in the room turned back to whatever they were doing and ignored the new arrival.
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
ain't even grey, but she buries her baby
The same little girl, a bit older now as could be seen in the lengthening of her limbs and the slight angles now present in her face, sat next to a jungle gym, crying. A group of pre-teen boys stood around her and laughed. The wood chips on the ground were digging into her legs and sticking to her shorts but she didn't care, simply letting the warm salty tears to continue to flow from her eyes. The boys jeered at her and taunted her to cry more.
"Cry-baby Rose! Cry-baby Rose!" they chanted, some taking a reprieve to comment on her mint-green hair or her odd pink eyes or her pale skin. And some would even comment on her poor handwriting, a fact known well around the orphanage. The young girl continued to sob, upset at herself for her imperfections, upset at the boys who mocked her, upset at the girls her age who wouldn't play with her. Even after the boys left, their chant resounded in her head. And she cried more.
The sharp knife of a short life, well
I've had just enough time
She sat as curled up as she could make herself be and coughed on the blistering hot, smoky air. Even through all her teasing, she had never experienced the sheer fear that was coursing through her veins at the current moment. It held her in place with an iron-grip and urged her mind to rush forward like a rough wind. It paralyzed her, but even this cold feeling was slipping away as her mind became cloudy from the smoke. So she forced herself to yell.
"Help! Help! Help me!" She said as loud as she could. Apparently it was loud enough because one of the older orphans, a tall girl with short brown hair and piercing cat-like green eyes came rushing toward her.
"Whatcha doing in here still? Come on," the teenaged girl said and yanked the younger out from under the table she had been hiding and lifted her onto her back, spider-monkey style. The young girl wrapped her arms and legs around the older girl's neck and waist and screwed her eyes shut. Then the teen ran out the door and down the stairs as fast as she could. Little Rose could feel the heat from the fire as they ran, but she somehow felt calmer now that someone had acknowledged her and rescued her. The older girl kicked down a door with a loud BANG and rushed outside to the group of startled children.
"I found Rose, Mrs. Densen," the girl said and let the found child slip off her back. Mrs. Densen thanked the teen and told her to sit down. As she did so, the child she rescued came forward and was surprised to find that tears were running down her cheeks once again. However, this time was different. Before, all her cries were unbearably sad and lonely. But this time, her whole being felt full of relief and gratitude. She hiccupped and rubbed away a tear.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said what felt like a hundred times. The older girl looked alarmed and simply let the younger rest in her lap. She stroked her mint hair and allowed her to cry until there was a large wet spot on the older girl's shirt.
Since that point, the older teen became Rose's personal guardian, shielding her from the teasing and allowing her to follow the elder girl everywhere. The two became extremely close friends, despite the nearly six year age difference. And the little girl felt at ease.
And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger
The girl sat next to a tall man with messy navy hair and heavy lidded red eyes. He wore a slightly worn suit and talked with this hands folded on his knee. The head of the orphanage, hair now predominantly salt in her salt and pepper coloring, smiled and handed more paper work to the man sitting across from her. Rose could not believe it. The only bad thing here was that she would have to leave her big sister behind. But, big sis was older. She could visit her in her free-time. Rose fiddled with her fingers and looked up at the man through her lashes. He turned to her and smiled.
"I will be your new father now," he said with a poignantly French accent. Rose looked up from the lace on the hem of her dress. The head gave the man a thick manilla folder and shook his hand. After leaving the room, Rose gave a tearful goodbye to her big sister. Together, the new father and daughter left to go to her new home.
At the new home, Rose met her new older brother. He was about as old as her big sis and he was extremely quiet. But she could see the caring gleam in his crimson eyes and she decided to become as close as she could. Over the years, he helped her with her homework and she helped him make friends. They had fights, but they loved each other. When things got bad, their father would come and help sort out the issues. They made a patch-work sort of family, but it was comforting. The only thing wrong was the lack of visits from big sis. Her father told her not to worry, but it was hard. As time went on, she found it easier to let the pain fade, but she still wished to see her sister's green eyes and hear her sarcastic, witty comebacks. But life goes on and for the most part, Rose was happy.
Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
"Rose! Pack up your things! We have to go, now!" Her father's voice echoed through the halls. The young girl ran to the railing and looked down. She opened her mouth to protest but one look from his bloodshot eyes shut her up. She went back to her room and filled as many bags as she could. Her pink eyes scanned the room before she left. She thought she grabbed everything.
As they drove away from the house, Rose looked out the back window wistfully. She was confused as to why they were leaving her big brother, but Dad looked too frazzled to answer anything. The pair drove through the night and within a week passed over the border. They found a house about five miles outside of a small village and moved in.
The girl decided to try and make her new home as much like her old house as she could. This meant planting as many flowers as the soil would support. Oranges, reds, and vibrant greens soon adorned the field, mixing with the native wildflowers like a magnificent collage. The flowers reminded her of lazy afternoons spent with her brother, drinking ice-cold lemonade and discussing the newest episode of their favorite TV drama. Rose closed her eyes and wished for her whole family to reunite.
Her father continued work, and she let him do tests on her. He said that this was going to help cure all the diseases in the world and Rose wished him luck with all her heart. The life the two now led was intimate, yet lonely. The young girl wasn't so young anymore. She started to let her hair grow out and adorn it with flowers. She was becoming a teenager.
I've never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The girl wandered down the dusty road of the village, a bag of fresh produce hooked to one arm and a colorful woven blanket on the other. She reached the old stone fountain and sat down. The water had been turned off, so the pool was dry. The young woman looked around anxiously at the passing people and fiddled with the long red ribbon wrapped around two locks of hair on either side of her face. She sighed and took out a red bell pepper and took a bite.
"Sorry for being late, I had to put my sister to sleep," A warm voice said and Rose looked up. A young man of Hispanic descent with short black hair and coffee colored sunkissed skin smiled at her. The young woman stood up and wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and slid his hand into hers. The boy grabbed the paper bag of food and she picked up the blanket and the two walked off in no real direction. Everywhere they went, the old women of the town smiled and wished the lovebirds well. Rose was well known in the town. Daddy never went to get supplies. He was too busy with research.
After what must have been an hour, the boy kissed Rose delicately on the lips and they parted. They had been having small meetings like this for months now, each one like a small thread connecting the teen to the outside world. She loved her daddy dearly, but the loneliness of isolation and leaving behind everything continued to gnaw at her and was only getting worse with time. Many nights before meeting the kind boy at the market, Rose would cry herself to sleep for her father, working endlessly toward a distant goal, her brother, and everyone else she left.
Rose opened the door to her house and went to the kitchen to put away the groceries, slipping off her sneakers in the process. The task of organizing the house fell squarely on the teen's shoulders and she made sure to be very good at it. The fruit and vegetables went into the old refrigerator; the bread went into the aptly placed basket by the toaster. She replaced the stagnant water in the vase on the table and straightened the rug. Happy with her work, she left to go tend to her flowers.
It all occurred so fast, she barely had time to think. One moment she was telling her father goodbye, the next she was running for her life after a gunshot had whizzed past her ear. The only thought running through her head was run. A blinding pain shot up her leg and she collapsed in a patch of Asclepius flowers. Pure terror held her in place, much more intense than the memories of the orphanage fire. Her breaths came in shallow and she held out her hand in a weak attempt to shield herself. She dared one peek at her assailant and barely recognized the dark crimson eyes that she had seen every day. They held a look of wild derangement that scared her to her very core. She screwed her eyes shut.
Then, it was over.
A penny for my thoughts, oh no I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'
It's hard to explain why she came back so many years later to find her sister. She could tell that something terrible was going to start. Somehow, she managed to project herself to the one person she could easily find. Maria Torres always had a fiery aura that burned like gasoline. That blaze was a beacon for the wayward spirit. She was relieved to find her big sister safe and almost just like how she remembered. But the feeling of doom still resounded in her core. The girl opened her mouth and tried to speak, only managing a weak whisper of one word.
"Beginning…"
It hurt when Maria didn't understand or tried to push the girl away. But she persisted in her efforts, appearing as often as her form would materialize. It was a normal visitation in the mall when the girl felt the shake of a rapidly approaching object and a cold wind of death along it. She willed her whole being to keeping her big sister safe. It was difficult, but she managed to make her voice loud enough.
"Run," she said and hoped for the best.
When a person was affected by the virus in the girl's blood, even though she didn't know that she had caused it, she felt a pull toward them. So when the outbreak in Portland begun the girl's spirit was torn in many parts and it ran back to her body as soon as it could. She could only hope and believe in her big sister.
The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need 'em oh
The spirit stood serenely watching the scene before her. The heroes of the epidemic, conquerors of the virus had come to give the late Rose a proper burial. At a green graveyard near her old house, they had buried her father, Professor Albert Sartre, and now they were burying her. As each person stepped forward to pay their respects, she felt her soul lift a bit and a thread being snipped. The girl looked at the man who was her big brother. She had never truly figured out what happened to him, but he looked happy when he was with these people. This made her happy.
Her big sister put an arm around her big brother and wiped a tear from her eye. She had been trying not to cry, but now she let the tears flow. The tall, silver-haired woman stepped back and gestured for the last two, the ones who had been closest to the deceased to step forward. Maria took the man's hand and they stood frozen by her coffin. The other doctors decided to give the two some space to properly grieve. At this Maria broke down, crouching to the ground and silently sobbing. She kept muttering how it wasn't fair and the spirit felt alarmed. She approached her adoptive or otherwise siblings and let her spirit brush theirs. Immediately, Maria stopped crying.
The ghost of the girl smiled and whispered in their ears, "Thank you." She felt the final threads snap and could go to rest. The mourning young adults stood and breathed the crisp morning air as the world finally said goodbye to Rosalia Rossellini.
So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls
So. When I first heard this song I thought of Rosalia. And I couldn't think of how to use it when I thought of this. It feels rushed at times, but I think it's decent.
Also, my friend who I got to edit this made some funny comments. Like putting HUH after Sartre's lines. Cause he sounds like Tommy Wiseau. Look it up, you will never see Albert the same way again. I did. I'll see what else Trauma Team or Trauma Center related I do next.
Disneytiger, out!