Find Me

10 • Scare

Purity and innocence; that is what the white rose stands for.

As I hold the stem in between its sharp thorns, my mind contemplates all of the things that this peculiar flower could mean, and why my stalker has chosen it to taunt me with. Maybe it is because of what it stands for? Or maybe that's what he sees me as: pure and innocent. I almost laugh at the thought of me being innocent. I killed my best friend because I wouldn't stop her from going to the police station that fateful day, and I still have the audacity to think I'm the victim of it all, but in reality, I'm not.

She was.

Tears blur my vision the more I think of Laura. Her smiling face that is etched into my mind makes me want to curl up in a corner for the rest of my life because of the guilt built up inside of me. She had just gotten a boyfriend, her first one, and she lost him the very same day. I hadn't even seen him at her funeral, the bastard.

Dropping the rose on the ground, I stomp on it with my bare foot. I hiss between my teeth as the thorns embed themselves into the pads of my feet, but I attempt to ignore the pain and keep stomping until the bud is so dismembered that nobody can tell it was once a beautiful flower.

I then scoop the ripped petals and squashed stem into my hands and toss them into the trash can. If I ever see another one of those white roses, I might have a meltdown.

I'm pretty sure that's something nobody wants to see ever again, considering what had happened at Laura's funeral. I completely lost my marbles when he had called me that day, and I still haven't truly recovered from it. Sometimes, I think he's actually trying to drive me crazy. In fact, that's probably his entire plan.

Sighing, I climb back under the covers, trying not to think about anything that could upset me, but it doesn't work. All I can think about is Laura, and how I couldn't help her.

I know I'll never forgive myself for her death. The only thing I can do now is pray that he leaves me alone from now on.

Yeah, good luck with that.

•••

I don't sleep for the rest of the night, unsurprisingly. When six-o-clock comes around and I hear Mom in the kitchen, I crawl out of the covers and head out, not bothering to shut the door behind me. I have a feeling I'll be in there for a lot of the day, considering there's nothing to do around here.

Mom and I do not speak throughout breakfast. It reminds me of the meals for the past week, which had been full to the brim of silence. I watch her drink her mint flavored tea while I finish up my toast. I think about telling her about the rose I found, but I don't want to worry her yet. The flower might have been there when we arrived, as a gift from the cops or something, but that's highly doubtful. I feel that my stalker knows where I've relocated and it's only a matter of time before he begins to taunt me again.

I shudder at the mere thought of it.

"Mela--Skylar," Mom catches herself before she says my real name. I look up from my empty plate, analyzing her face for any sign of tension. There's none. My shoulders relax and I wait patiently for her to speak.