Flowers, Fame and Unforeseen Facades

Chapter 1

                                                          Rosemary: Remembrance
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Zoe's POV

The smell of the fresh flowers wafted through the shop. I had my apron tied around my waist, and my hair pulled back in an attempt to keep myself clean. Not that it usually worked. Cutting the lush, green stems of the primrose, I got lost in my thoughts. I remembered the first time that I had trimmed the stem of a flower to assemble it alongside other aromatic plants. I was making my first bouquet. The memory was still embedded deep into my mind. It was one of the few pleasant one's that I had, and I made sure to keep it close to my heart.

The little corner in the shop where I assembled the flowers might have seemed to be a poor place to enjoy work, but to me, it was exactly what I had wished for. The light grey and white walls, racks filled with fresh bouquets and flowers, yellow curtains embroidered with roses, extreme amount of natural light and cramped working area were elements that made up my home. Not only because it was the end result of my hard work, but also because it was the one place where I truly felt like myself. It made me forget my horrible past and became a safe haven for me. I couldn't have been more proud of what I had achieved.

I would spend my days growing flowers in the garden, and bringing them inside to make beautiful bouquets. The business was going well. Mostly because my store was close to the graveyard. The past few months of my life had been some of the best in my entire life.

Unfortunately, I hadn't always been this happy. Five years ago, my life was a complete mess, but I made it out. Albeit I didn't make it out with all of my mental health intact, I did make it out. That was one of the few things that kept me going. Knowing that I was strong enough to not take my life because of my treacherous past.

Over the years, I had found the missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that was my life, and placed them back together. Not all the pieces were found, but enough were there to form a picture. A picture of what I wanted. A picture of what I needed. A picture that helped me pick myself up and climb up the mountain that I was thrown off of. The mountain that I called freedom.

The long, sleepless nights that I endured made me feel content with everything that I had acquired. I still remembered everything. The hunger, the pain, the loneliness and the realization that I was completely alone in the world.

But, not all wounds heal fully. The deep one's leave a mark. A permanent reminder of what had happened. And I wasn't an exception. My mark wasn't a battle scar that I was proud of. In fact, I wished to rid myself of it every time that it showed itself. I had not one, but multiple marks. I was a victim of PTSD. My panic attacks and nightmares acting as harrowing memories of the life that I wished to erase from my mind.

For a long period of time, I had a lot of trouble trusting anyone. It wasn't until a year after I had found a place to live that my neighbor came knocking on my door. A fiery redhead who looked to be about my age demanded to come into my house. Eventually, we became great friends.

She was the only person who I trusted in the world. When she heard my story, she didn't judge me or send any false sympathy my way. What she did was something that I was eternally grateful for. She helped me stand back up on my two feet.

Harley was my best friend and neighbor. She lived in the apartment above mine, but the two of us were always bursting into each other's residence without notice. Neither of us minded, and enjoyed each other's company. She was a gorgeous red head with curly hair, olive skin, dark grey eyes and freckles over her nose. She worked as a rhythmic gymnast and was an instructor at her own gymnasium.

The two of us were polar opposites. While she was fierce and outgoing, I was shy and didn't interact with a lot of people. She was always going to party's, wanting to find a suitable boyfriend, but I didn't want to find love or get drunk with her. No matter our differences, we were extremely close.

As I heard a car honking outside, I quickly put away all of my things, washed my hands and flipped the sign in the window to show that the shop was closed. Walking outside, I saw Harley waving at me to move faster. She was sitting in her white, convertible BMW and smirking at me as I tried to hurriedly open the door and get in the car. I rolled my eyes at her. She knew that I didn't like the convertible because it brought us too much attention. Still, she found it funny to tease me every once in a while by bringing it and picking me up.

The two of us had settled on a routine. We would always go to work together, either in her car, or my Toyota Camry. Harley was extremely rich, but she was down to earth. Although she had enough money to get a penthouse, thanks to her dad owning the biggest company in all of California, she preferred to live as a normal recent college graduate. That didn't mean that she wouldn't occasionally treat herself to luxuries such as the extravagant car.

As I finally got inside the car and buckled up, Harley smiled and drove us to her favorite diner. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect evening.

Thank you so much for reading! Did you like it? Let me know in the comments. Also, voting wouldn't hurt either. Anyway, read on! xx