"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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When you lose a spouse, you're a widow. When you lose your parents, you're an orphan. But there is no name for someone who has lost their sister. And Dahlia had lost three sisters, two related by blood but one connected by the soul. All she had left of them was an unwavering sense of guilt and a golden dahlia necklace.
The gold colouring seemed to have lost its shine when it was returned to Dahlia, years of bad luck taking its toll on the once treasured item. She could barely stand to look at it anymore, shutting it away in a drawer as quickly as she could. It felt like an omen of death to even be associated with it, having been worn by both Cove and Lavender when they met their cruel ends. Like a cursed charm bringing endless suffering to its wearer. Dahlia had certainly suffered enough without the necklace's help, but the worst was yet to come. Now she had to live with the aftermath, and not even Alaric could save her from herself.
Just the sight of lavender and roses would send her spiralling into a panic, reminding her of the demise of her little sisters. Showers were out of the question as her intense fear of drowning from the trauma of her near-death intensified after the flood in Annie's Games. Even shallow baths became a rarity as just the sound of trickling water made her tense in anticipation of an imminent flood. These fears were irrational, Dahlia knew that, but she was lost in her own madness. Nothing could ease her mind.
"Flower." Alaric calls out softly into the airless room, barely able to see Dahlia's silhouette through the darkness. The curtains had been tightly shut, leaving little room for any light to get past while the girl buried herself under the numerous covers of the bed. She was attempting to hide herself away from a cruel world that enjoyed inflicting pain upon her, but in doing so, she had become trapped with her unavoidable guilt. There was no way to shut out her own mind. "You need to get up."
He knew that she had heard him, she always did. But he got no response. No sign that she had even acknowledged him at all. It was like she had become dead to the world. Not living, just simply existing. Even that seemed to drain all her energy.
"Flower?" He tries again, more firmly this time but still no reply. With a small huff, Alaric flicks the light switch on, filling the room with much-needed brightness. Dahlia shot up from the bed, whipping her head round to send Alaric a murderous look. "Your Black Dahlia glare may terrify the Capitol but it doesn't work on me, Flower." The man scoffs defiantly, striding further into the messy room while her stare follows his every move. "You need to get up."
Alaric's urging tone surprises Dahlia, different from his usual pestering. "Why?" She questions glumly, throat croaky from lack of use and her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. This time, it's Dahlia who doesn't receive a response. Alaric's silence sobers her up from her dazed state, body tensing at the grave and somber expression on his face. "What are you not telling me?" She asks sternly as Alaric focuses on anything but her piercing stare. After a few moments of avoidance, Dahlia grows tired of this cat-and-mouse game and furiously growls, "Just spit it out."
