My mother's white rose

CHAPTER 1: WHITE ROSE

My name is James Hampton beside me, the most beautiful black-haired girl I have ever attended school with. We both just graduated and finished with our final school day ever. This excluding varsity. I was pretty much a loser, and this is the first time in 6 years someone actually wants to do something with me, even if it is walking home. Just before going home, I wanted to make one stop at the place where my heart lays. A place where the most important stone in my life can be found.

So, what are you planning on doing after this vacation?

Charlotte asks with her hazelnut eyes staring into my dull blue eyes.

Honestly

Clearing my throat, I think of an exit strategy to not ruin my true plans

probably a gap year of some sorts,

I say laughing awkwardly while staring at my feet.

Sounds fun, wish I can do that but with my dad being a doctor and all

I slowly started tuning her voice out of my head not wanting to get to attached something I have become a master at over these 6 years. Just nodding every now and then to keep her talking only about herself. Why do we do this? Every one of us chooses to focus only on ourselves and our agendas not caring for our fellow people. Well, Im guilty as charged but cannot be accused. Would you want to know your friend wants to commit suicide? Dont think so. Thats why I exclude myself.

So why did I allow Charlotte to accompany me? To make people believe I am okay. I guess. If she knew the entire school or even the entire world would know, and I am not in the mood for even more therapy and talks about that how wrong suicide is because I dont care at ALL.

Sounds interesting,

All I have to say to make her think I listened or even cared.

Really, thanks

oddly she said it in a very shy way.

As we enter the cemetery, I ask for my typical two white roses. We walk to my mothers grave. She has been dead for almost more than six years after she was driving very drunk and depressed crashing into the back of a pick-up truck. I place the two roses and slowly back way trying to remember the slightest feel of her touch.

Why white roses?

Charlotte asked as curious as ever.

Well, its a long story

I try to cut this conversation short.

I have time.

She says determined to find out.

Fine, well its about the story she told me when I was about 8 years old:

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom with a strong powerful ruler. At his side, he had a beautiful wife and a wonderful son. One day an evil man broke into the castle and murdered his wife while she was asleep. The poor king now full of pain and sadness called upon the ancient sorcerer. He ordered him to embed his wifes soul into all-white roses across the world and so he did. So, every time you look at a rose you can feel her presence.

Ooh thats a cute story reminds me of the time when

There she goes again, and my mind goes to work again channeling out her self-centered stories, placing me in total lockdown in my own mind. Sad to think I went through this life for 18 years only for me to end it myself.

James, can I ask you something,

A sudden worry took over her body.

Sure, I guess.

Would you ever be able to forgive me?

For what?

Just as those two words came out my mouth, I felt it. A hard knock at the back of my head, forcing me down to my knees. Someone turns me around so I can face him, and I immediately know who he is, Mark Brain, Charlottes boyfriend. I feel as his hand slowly grasp around my throat forcing me to hold my breath. His first punch connects in my center, and I feel every bit of it.

You think youre funny!

He screams, his eyes flickering with hate.

His second shot hits me hard in the ribs knocking the breath out of me.

You think you can steal my girl!

Wait does this mean all of this was just a setup of some sort? Just as that idea popped in my head something else popped. The skin under my right eye just as Marks elbow connected me. He kept n beating me punching me time after time, by the time he was done crimson streaks were flowing down my neck. My noose is broken easily, and I have three deep cuts on my face.

Let that be a lesson, PUNK!

Spitting out the words as if he wanted to spit at me.

Ha look here a tooth of a friendless loser.

I feel my tooth as it hits my forehead.

Lets go, babe.

The way he said it shows he was not messing around.

After a very blood-filled journey, I finally got home. I patched myself up a bit. Tapping and washing away all the blood left on my face after Mark's hitting lesson. I look at my phone wanting to call for help but I only have three contacts: My Dad, Grandmother, and Mom.

Later that night my laptop screen illuminating my entire room. My vlog was filled with comments from Charlotte saying how sorry she is about what happened and how it was a dare from her friends. Typical. All these high-ranked people use us lower-ranked peasants for laughs and entertainment. The front door creaks open, and I can even smell who has just come through the front door. Dad, as drunk as always. Since mom died, I dont think there has passed one day with him sober. All he does these days is going to work, get drunk at the bar and go sleep.

I cant do it here it would be too hard on him, so I write a note:

DAD when you read this, Im most likely to be at grandma's or close. I will stay there for a week or so before I go down to the beachside. Ill let you know when Im there or if something comes up. __SON

I place the note on the counter underneath his morning beer and head out to the garage. I take my moms car the one thing I have to remember her by and start with my road trip towards my grandmother. Its about a 10-hour drive.