The Single Red Rose

I opened my eyes and I was lying on my bed underneath my soft down comforter and not on the floor where I had fallen in my dream – I guess that's what it was but the scent, the kiss, and shock, not fear; I never had a dream that realistic except about my first meeting Henry– I took in a deep breath relief spreading through me, it was just a coincidence.

I looked at my old decrepit alarm clock and it read seven o'clock. The stupid thing didn't go off this morning and I have to be at school by seven-twenty-five. I got out of bed flung a pair of dark washed ripped jeans out of my dresser drawer and on my bare pale legs and pulling a lacy black camisole over my head then put a short black sweater over it leavening the black ribbon untied and threw on my already ties Converse sneakers. Then my pace came to a dramatic stop – there is a red rose on my stereo it had a crimson ribbon connecting a note to it.

I picked it up slowly with shaking hands and pricked my finger on one of the thorns. I brought it to my lips sucking on my finger to stop the bleeding and read what it said 'Love burns high when thwarted by obstacles. I'm keeping my promise, now it's time that you keep yours, Evie, my love. Henry Edwards.'

My promise I know exactly what that was the small part of my memories I always tried to forget and in the dreams – the part where I promised him in return I wanted to be with him forever, I was five what did I know? I almost hyperventilated then I looked at the clock and it read seven-ten I don't have time for a nervous brake down I can't get another detention or by school policy I should be suspended – my aunt would strangle me.

I ran downstairs and out the front door. It was freezing I could see my own breath, but luckily it wasn't sunny – I hate how the rays scorch my skin even when they're weak in the months of winter. It's weird but I actually prefer cloudy days over that when the sun is shining in the sky.

Luckily I only live two blocks away from the high school – or hell as I call it – and my running is fast enough to win that of a track meet. I wasn't scared last night for my life but right now fear of making my aunt's head exploding with rage is what fueled me – exhilarated me. Most times I enjoy pushing as many buttons I can get away with but being suspended would cause the next button I push to explode in my face.

I blew through the halls and came to a halt at my locker. I made it in plenty of time – people were still gossiping in the halls and gave me a look of disgust as I passed them. It made me crack a smile they looked at me like I'm some kind of disease, just because I wear black.

Peter was leaning on my locker – my best friend. He understands me and I love him like a brother only he's not as annoying as a brother can be – all the time. I've known him for a total of a year and we just clicked – we like all the same bands and books, and he was absolutely trustworthy three things that are very important in a friend. He smiled looking me up and down – I hate when he looks at me like that with his dark blue eyes that look black some days. It's like he can see into my very soul. – Although I just rolled my eyes and he chuckled.

Peter is pretty handsome, but I don't think of him in any way other than the 'friends' category. He's really tall probably about six-three, – well anything's tall compared to my five-four – he has strait black hair that's about chin length, extremely pale skin, – I mean mine looks tan compared to his and I'm just about as white as a sheet of computer paper – full lips, and those mesmerizing dark blue, sometimes black eyes of his. He wears dark jeans and a black tee and sweatshirt or sweater – in the winter – but anything on him makes him look like a model he's so muscular. At least he doesn't flaunt it like the stupid football and soccer snobs.

Once I started to wind back down and brushed Peter to the side of my locker instead of in front of it the inner fear began to take over and my breathing became thick. I kneeled before my locker and tried to take out my English book that was wedged between two binders with shaking hands but my hand slipped and caught the corner of my locker. "Shit!" I said in a hushed tone and let my fingers put pressure on the flesh wound on my palm.

"What's the matter?" Peter asked his voice so alluring almost compelling me to tell him thetruth after he sat down next to me his back against the locker he was standing in front of. I can't tell him the whole truth or he'll think I'm crazy and suicidal like the rest of the student body so I decided on some truth but I couldn't resist being playfully paranoid, "there is nothing the matter with me, you, that's a whole different story entirely." I said tacking the end part about him and that made him smile and forget his question.

It's eerie how easily I can elude some subjects I don't want to talk about. My aunt says I have quick wit like my father; he could talk in circles making perfect sense but elude the part he didn't wish to discuss.

The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly. I went through my normal routine though at lunch I barley touched my salad and Peter looked at me with an odd expression on his face. I was always hungry, never once did I pass up the school salads – I wouldn't dare touch anything else I didn't even know if the burgers were real meat or if the pizza was real or just card board with cheese over it. The salads and my daily walks home and fast metabolism was the reason for me being absurdly thin in every place except my butt and chest.

He asked if there was something bothering me and I just said I wasn't hungry and he raised an eyebrow. He watched me closely for the rest of the day. I hate being scrutinized.

After school I went home received Sophie off her school bus called Monique and was on my way to the sanatorium. The stupid time at this stupid job – that I hate – went by so fast today the day that I wouldn't mind staying a couple extra hours.

I walked out of the sanatorium at normal pace again I felt like I was being watched adrenalin kicked in but didn't make my feet move any faster. I'm not scared. Not for myself, my little sister and my aunt – yeah – but me I couldn't care less.