What A Wonderful Alternate World

Disclaimer: I don't own American Dragon: Jake Long!

Chapter Four: Refusing Help

It had been about an hour since Brad had left the house, but Rose still was on the floor. Her tears were still running down her cheeks, falling sideways onto the hardwood floor. Even though she knew no one could find her like this, Rose had no intention of getting up off the floor.

However, fate had other plans. As Rose sniffled, using her hand with her dragon-shaped birthmark to wipe the tears from her cheek, the fourteen year old girl nearly jumped in surprise as she heard a ringing sound coming from the kitchen. Perhaps it was the fact that she had hit her head, but Rose did not realize that it was the phone in the kitchen until the third ring.

Groaning, Rose pushed herself up into a sitting position before getting to her feet. Rose took one step toward the kitchen, but she stopped abruptly, squeezing her eyes shut and putting her hand to the spot on her stomach where Brad had hit her. It hurt to walk, and she was tempted to just sit back down on the floor, but as she heard another ring, she knew that she had to get it. It could be her parents on the other end; they were worried about her, and if she didn't pick up and prove to them that everything was more or less fine, they could come home and find her like this. Rose could not have that.

Summoning up all of her courage, Rose tried to block all thoughts of pain from her mind as she jogged into the kitchen. As Rose grabbed the phone, she became completely aware of all of the pain signals that her stomach was shooting to her brain, and as the phone rang in her hand, Rose failed in the test that she had given herself: holding in a sob of pain.

Finally managing to compose herself, Rose accepted the call and put the phone to her ear. "Rose?" Sure enough, the person on the phone was none other than her mother. "Rose, are you there?"

"I'm here, Mom..." Rose said, her voice cracking.

"Rose, are you okay? You sound like you've been crying."

"I'm..." Rose stopped herself, trying to think of a good enough lie to fool her mother. Finally, she found one: "I...I...I just miss Emma..."

"I know you do, sweetheart..." her mother said. "...Your father and I do too. But, you just have to let it go. You can't waste your life mourning her, Rose. It'll kill you. You have to move on, baby. You just need to tell yourself that she's in a better place..."

"She's underground inside a box, Mom..."

There was a pause before her mother spoke again, and when she finally did speak again, it was obvious from her choked tone that Rose's words had hurt. "Yes..." She said. "...Rose, listen. We're worried about you. However, the reason I called you is because we're going to be home early; we just left the office, so we should be home in about twenty minutes. If you want, we can bring you home something to eat. Would you like something to eat?"

"No..." Rose answered quickly. "I was just about to go to bed. I just want to sleep. I don't want to be bothered..."

"Rose..." Rose's mother quickly cut her off. "Just about two hours ago, you were begging us to stay home with you; you begged us not to leave you alone. What's changed?"

"I'm..." Rose once again tried to think of a lie. "...I'm tired, Mom. I didn't sleep well last night. I just...want to sleep..."

It took another moment for her mother to reply. "Alright, baby. We'll leave you alone. We'll see you tomorrow. Just...please try to cheer up tomorrow..."

"I'll try..." Rose said silently before she hung up the phone. Rose found that she felt a pain in her stomach as she put the phone back on the receiver, so when pulled her arm back, she put her hand on her stomach. It was going to be a battle to get up to her room...

Rose slowly made her way out to the stairs, and taking a deep breath, she slowly took each step one at a time...

&*%

By the time Rose got to her room and collapsed onto her bed, her stomach was throbbing from where Brad had hit her. The tears returning, Rose tried to think of something other than her sister, so she found herself thinking about her conversation with her mother.

Rose did not like lying to her parents, but she had been doing so since the day that Brad had turned abusive. Even then, she really didn't know why she always tried to come up with excuses for why she had bruises without telling them that Brad had inflicted them onto her. Perhaps it was because she didn't want Brad to be mad at her, or because she didn't want her parents to be mad at Brad. Perhaps it was because she was afraid to let her parents see her as a weakened victim of abuse.

Whatever the case, Rose had lied to them; she was keeping a big secret from her parents. She was refusing help, and as she fell asleep, she wondered how long it would take for it to finally blow up in her face. It had been almost a year...it couldn't possibly be that much longer...

&*%

When Rose woke up the next morning, she was relieved to find that her stomach no longer throbbed with pain, and it was simply sore. Rose slowly got off of her bed and walked out of the room, taking her time as she walked down the stairs. Once she got to the bottom step, she turned and walked into the kitchen where she found both of her parents sitting at the table.

As Rose sat down at her seat, she looked down at her plate and found that there were three pancakes there. "I made pancakes..." her mother looked into her eyes. "They're your favorite, right?"

"Sure..." Rose said, raising her head.

"Rose, there's one more thing..." her mother continued. "You see, there was a little bit of a trade-off we had to make when we chose to come home early. We need to go in early today...so we won't be able to pick you up. Okay? You can walk home today, right?"

"Sure..." Rose repeated.

&*%

After quickly eating her breakfast, Rose left the kitchen and went into the living room, where she picked up her backpack. Then, she left the house.

As Rose walked down the steps of her house and moved onto the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of fresh air, and as she continued walking toward her school, that thought hit her once more: Without telling anyone about her personal problems, how much longer could she avoid getting really hurt?

END CHAPTER

A/N: So, there's Chapter Four. Please tell me what you think in a review.