The Thistles of Rose

17 • Woeful

♚ Luca ♚

Grief is infinite. No amount of therapy or coping mechanisms can make it go away. It'll always be there, stalking around your head like a hungry wolf.

I can't see that kid. That's why I had to get out of that house.

When I first saw that kid in Rosa's arms, I didn't see a baby.

I saw the three months of pain, torment and isolation I went through. I saw the three months of caring for the broken love of my life as she tried to accept our tragedy. I saw the blood of what would've been our baby spilling out of her onto the penthouse floor.

I saw grief.

Amid the bleak room, I stare up at the ceiling. A dim, lamp-light casts grotesque shadows onto it. A discomfiting sliver slithers up my spine. They're a figment of my berserk imagination.

She lays beside me, sleeping ghastly still. Her chest rises and falls in a palliative motion. The faint glow of the room bounces off her skin. Her hands lay under her cheek as she faces toward me.

I shift in the bed and place a soft kiss on her cheek.

I don't know what I did to deserve her in my life but I'm fucking glad I did it. If I didn't meet her, I would've put a gun to my forehead ages ago.

A click of a door closing meets my ears and I sit up. Hushed conversation. Shielded footsteps. My muscles are tense as adrenaline pumps through my blood. Protect her, protect her, protect her.

This is the exact reason why I always sleep near the door. That way if anyone breaks in, the first they'll target is me and she'll have time to get to safety.

"Rosa, wake up," I whisper, softly but impatiently, shaking her awake. The soft footsteps continue and I become more urgent in my actions.

She stirs and responds with incoherent mumbles. Immediately, I clamp a hand over her mouth, silencing her, and her emerald eyes shoot open. They relax when they spot me with a finger over my lips.

"There's someone in the apartment," I whisper into her ear, anxiously. I feel her breathing falter against my hand and I demand, "hide in the closet. Call Danny. Quickly. Go."

From the haste, hectic and horror in my whispers, she knows not to protest. Rosa nods, slips out the bed, grabs her phone and tiptoes to the closet. She turns back to me and blows me a long, solemn kiss before disappearing through the ajar door.

Her eyes said it all. Be careful, I love you.

Relieved, I exhale a breath and quietly grab the gun from the nightstand.

That's my liability safe. I've said to her that she's not my weakness but, in circumstances like this, I can't take any risks. I won't be able to live my life without her.

I put on some pants and stalk out the door with the gun in my hand. There's an eerie silence that breezes through the penthouse. The footsteps seem to be coming from the living room but I can't yet determine how many there are. It's definitely two or three of them.

I'm trying to put as much distance between the bedroom and I.

When I reach the living room, I use the wall as my barrier and wait as the shuffling grows louder. It stops. Whispers follow and, slowly, a gun emerges from around the corner.

Quickly, I knock it out the man's hand, pin his arm behind his back and crack it. He screams out in pain so I shoot him in the head, silencing him.

Flicking the lights on, they blind my sensitive eyes and I take cover behind the wall. Once they've adjusted, I spot two other men. Quickly, I shoot the bulkier one twice in his head and there's a loud thud when he hits the floor. The other ducks behind the couch amongst the shockwave.