The Blossom of Rose

1 • Beautiful

♕ Rose ♕

No rose without a thorn.

An everlasting beauty bonded to a ruthless sinner. Sworn for protection. It's malice against the delicate embrace of the petals around the rosebud. Its coarseness against the fragility and strength of the silk petals. It's cruelty against the smile and light of the tedious blossom.

The dolled reflection glares back at me from the gold-rimmed mirror, her two hands gripping the satin basin sink counter. An olive skin tone compliments her heart-shaped features, the lips painted in a dark red shade. Smoky makeup coats her green eyes and long eyelashes, which elegantly graze her dusted cheeks. Curled waves of luscious, red hair are simply styled to gracefully fall above her waist and a set of pearl-studded earrings idly sit in her ears. A spaghetti strap, black, dress loosely outlines the shape of her petite body and the delicate, diamond, halo necklace glues itself to the spot on her neck.

I blink. And there I am, seven years ago. 16 years old. That same necklace lying on my scarred neck.

Sombre emerald eyes puffy. A purple rim around them from both crying and the pressure of a hard fist. Dark blood drips from my nose. An amber bruise sits on my right cheekbone. Frizzy strands of my red hair stuck to my bloodied cheeks from a gash caused by a shard of glass. I attempted to smile but winced harshly at the fire burning from my busted lip and it's as if I can still feel it.

"You ungrateful bitch. All you had to fucking do was stay with him and we could've ruled Spain too. But I fucking lost the Spanish as my fucking allies because of you."

"Me?! He was the one who emotionally abused me!" The words burned my throat as they were shouted. I flinched when he came closer.

"Do you think I fucking care about you, child? Samuel can beat you, shout at you, swear at you all he wants but you stay with him. Because I can't afford to lose Sebastian as an ally. So tomorrow, you'll go back to Samuel and apologise. He'll take you back. He loves you and you love him." Anger viciously swirled in his nefarious green eyes. And it was at that moment I realised I was too afraid not to listen to him. I was too afraid not to do what he wanted.

Now, at the age of 23, I still can't wipe that memory from my mind. Because it was at that moment, I realised my thorns had been cut.

By the one person, I had sworn would burn the world to protect me. My father.

There's a burning in my throat at the thought of him. The cold water from the tap touches my hands and it soothes my burning neck. Get a grip of yourself, Rose. Don't be so weak like he always wanted you to be.

The creak of the door startles me.

"Hey, are you alright?" Calla, my younger sister, asks. Her almond, green eyes are brewing with utmost concern as are her frowning gestures. Chestnut hair brushes the pads of her shoulders as she strolls over to me.

"Yeah, I just needed a minute," I answer her with a smile hoping it's enough for her not to pry.

"You may have been gone five years but I know my older sister," she retorts and crosses her arms.

"I'm fine. I just-I'm fine," I fumble over my words and stare at her with regret, "you were right to tell me not to come, especially since I only got back yesterday."

"Don't dwell about it. I know you needed to get out of that house," she responds.

There are unspoken words behind the tone of her voice, and she pulls me into a hug. She's right. That house holds too many memories for me, worse than good. And only being cooped up in it for 20 hours messed even more with my head.