Rose Martin was a happy girl.
She had everything she could want, loving parents, a beautiful home, fateful friends and happiness.
She was happy, and that was all that mattered.
She was happy with her room, neat and tidy and very clean.
Rose smiled at her new room, her new home. She had a lot of unpacking to do, but she already knew she would love it.
She was happy with her mom, diligent and responsible and very kind.
Rose grinned as she smelled the sweet scent of waffles from the kitchen, undoubtedly her mom's doing.
She was happy with her dad, silent and stoic and very loving.
She laughed as the rollercoaster went up and down, giggling at her dad's huff of, "We're never doing that again," and, like the little shit she was, Rose made her dad go on it with her six more times.
She was happy with her friends, kind and supportive and all too loyal.
Penny looked delighted when Rose complimented her drawing, and Rose couldn't help wanting to see her smile like that all the time.
She was happy, she was happy with everything, until she wasn't.
Rose didn't cry when she was called to the principals office, when they told her that her father had died in a plane accident on his way home from a business trip.
She cried at the funeral, the casket opened for all too see, ornate with flowers that most definitely had meaning, her father looking at peace, like he was just taking one of his naps, like he could get up and groggily ask what was going on at any moment, but he didn't.
Rose worried when Penny moved to the U.S., leaving her in Canada, all alone.
Rose feared when Moon went missing, her adopted sister's face plastered everywhere, only to be found dead in an alleyway, days later.
Rose panicked when she saw her house on the news, burning and crackling, taunting her to come back.
They say she was lucky to have been out at her aunt's at that time, but sometimes she can't help but feel that she should've been right there with her mom, gasping for air and choking on smoke.
