Chapter 19: Rosalie, Rosie, and Rose.

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Scene. II by William Shakespeare.

The first time you're given a name is the day you are born. You are swaddled in blankets and given to your mother. She's crying and she can hardly get your name out. So your father tells the nurse instead.

"Rosalie Carolina Stoll," he says, rubbing your mother's shoulder. "That's her name." When you ask your parents why you were named Rosalie, they say, "Because you're like a rose. Strong and beautiful."

You smile and leave them alone.

The second time you're given a name is when you're a little girl. Rosie is what they call you. Everybody calls you that and you're fine with it. Rosie is much gentler than Rosalie. It describes what you are, a rose that has yet to grow.

You remember how your siblings mouths curl into a smile every time they say your name.

Rosie is a name for happiness.

You are happy.

The only person who matters in your world doesn't talk much anymore, much less use your name. In the heat of war, you find that he doesn't talk at all. You try to talk but he just looks at your warily and tells you to be careful.

You don't know where your parents are anymore. You don't even know if they're safe. You have accepted that they might be dead. But you don't think too hard. You've seen how filling yourself with thought has done to other campers. You cannot afford to do that.

But you believe in your brother more than anything in the world. He'll get us out of this. He'll bring your sister back and you can go back home and be happy again. Your brother always made miracles happen. He's your big brother, he can't fail.

But when you wake up from your sleep delusioned fit, you see the hail fall outside the hotel room. Your brother's girlfriend looks at you with pity and you feel your world falling down around you.

You fall into her arms and sob. You know that pleading for your mommy and daddy won't do anything, but it tumbles out of your mouth.

As you get older you rename yourself. "Rose." you say, stretching out your hand. "Nice to meet you." Rose is harsher. A rose has thorns that make people bleed. You feel like you're more of a thorn than a flower.

Your mouth feels sour whenever your mother and brother call you by that old name. But you don't correct them. You see how damaged they are. They need you to still be the same old Rosie you were years ago before all that shit happened.

You flush with embarrassment whenever you have friends over at your house. "Rosie, are these your friends?" your mother asks.

When she leaves your friends snicker at the name. You laugh along because that name is a joke to you.

When your mother dies, he begins to call you Rose. And after years of wanting them to realize that you've grown up, the name sounds wrong coming from his mouth. Whenever he says your name, his mouth no longer curls into a smile like before. It makes his mouth round and falls right back into a frown once he's finished.

He helps you out with going away to college. It feels weird, not being the broke college kid you expected to be. You live comfortably with the money made from death. It makes you feel dirty, but you know that your mother and father would want you to use that money to make your life easier.

Everyday you watch your brother get worse and worse. He tries hiding it from you as much as he can, but it's become obvious, the way he drinks his soul away. He tries to forget, but as much as he tries, there is no forgetting.

You can tell that he hasn't slept in several days.

You worry even more.

He calls you Rosie when you pull him out of the tub. He chokes and sputters and tries to force himself away from you. "STOP!" he screams. "LET ME GO!"

You struggle and you fight but eventually he gives up and buries his head in your chest. His fingers dig into your arms and they hurt. You know that in the morning there will be bruises there. His entire body shakes and heaving sobs fill the tiny apartment bathroom.

"I don't want to live anymore, Rosie." he sobs. "Please, Rosie. Just make the pain stop."

You start to cry as well. You don't know what to do. He's always been the strong one. You feel so lost. Seeing him like this makes your heart break.

You guide him to his bedroom and dry him off.

"Rosie. I'm sorry." he says.

You feel yourself frown deeply. You kiss his forehead and tell him to sleep. "It'll all be okay." You assure him. "I promise."

You don't know if you can keep that.

The love of your life calls you by a different name. She murmurs it against your bare skin and you feel your heart grow warmer. You think you heard wrong so you just go to sleep.

But when you wake up she kisses you and says, "Good morning, Love."

You look at her like she is the sun. You still can't believe that she's not Aphrodite in disguise. You don't know how you got so lucky.

You know in an instant, that you will marry this girl. She is the only good in the chaos that surrounds your life.

But in the back of your head you worry about your brother.

Even when you're unbelievably happy, you think about your brother and how miserable he is. Sometimes it feels like you don't deserve any bit of it.

When you are given this name, you are elated. Rosalie Carolina Stoll-Cortez. You take your wife's hand as you recite your vows. You try not to cry but you shed a few tears. She laughs as a couple of fat ones roll down her perfect cheeks.

You both laugh at each other for being such saps. You say, "I do." and smile with elation as she replies back with the same two words. You never thought you could be happy again. But now, you know that happiness is in the future. This woman will forever be by your side. You couldn't be happier.

At the reception, your brother hugs you real close and tells you how proud he is of you. You cry in each others arms. For once, they could go back into the old days when he would lead the way and be proud of you. And you could bask in the praise.

You think that things can only go uphill from there.

When your brother and his wife bring a child into the world, you are now called an auntie. You marvel at the tiny thing. If it wasn't for the curly hair, she'd look exactly like your mother. Your brother knows this too, even though he doesn't say it. You get this sense of sadness everytime he looks at her.

But you worry. You don't know if your brother is prepared to have children of his own when he is so enveloped in his own sadness. His own wife is in denial over his mental health and you can't help but worry.

By the time he has his second child and you have your first and only, your worries vanish. Maybe he's got everything under control, you think to yourself.

You're just like your father. You're good at lying, even to yourself.

This time, you don't earn a name, you lose one. The word sister vanishes and you feel empty. You never thought that you would be the last one in this world. But he always loved to prove people wrong, didn't he?

You ask his wife if you could have a portion of his ashes. She reluctantly agrees and you take home a urn. It sits in your office and you stare at it most nights, angry at what he's done.

"You promised me," you growl. "You promised me that it wouldn't resort to this."

The urn doesn't answer back. You almost break the thing, but without the urn, he wouldn't be there anymore.

You miss him with every fiber of your being. You don't know how you could go on without him. But then you remember. You have a family. You can't give up on them.

You laugh at yourself. Perhaps you have finally grown into a Rose, thorns and all. A bit battered, yes. But still standing.

Yet you know that you are still Rosalie, Rosie, and Rose. You will always be those three people.

You make a promise to yourself that you will beat the odds. You will thrive. And, if all the of the forces in the world want to kill you, then they better expect that you aren't going down without a fight.

After all, a rose has it's thorns.

Wow, that was kind of a cheesy ending. I still quite like this one. Like I said about Jacob's piece, it fleshes Rosie out even more. Thanks for reading my shitty fanfics.