Rose Among Thorns

2-Hope

Rose Pov:

As I approach the house, my steps slow when I spot an expensive-looking car in the driveway. It's sleek and polished, a stark contrast to the worn-out junkers that usually park here. Leaning casually against the car is a tall, solidly-built man with an unreadable expression on his face. I pause, staring at him from a distance, wondering how he fell for my mother. They always do, somehow, only to change their minds when they realize who she really is.

For just a moment, I allow myself the familiar hope: Maybe he'll be the one who makes her stop. Every time a new boyfriend comes along, I pray he'll be different, that he'll stand up to her, maybe even save me. But that hope dies quicker with each one. They don't save me; instead, they just join in, finding the same sick satisfaction she does.

As I approach the front door, a loud, unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?" It's a woman's voice, but not my mother's, and definitely not a man's. I freeze, my hand hovering just above the doorknob.

Then I hear my mother's voice, her tone uncharacteristically shaky. "She was never supposed to exist, she's just a waste of space." There's something off in her voice, a waver I've never heard before—almost like doubt. My pulse quickens. My mother, uncertain? I push the door open, curiosity mixed with dread, and step inside.

The first thing I see is a woman standing in the middle of the living room, a striking figure. She's older, perhaps in her sixties, but she looks graceful, well-kept, every detail of her appearance carefully considered. She's dressed in a dark green dress that hugs her figure elegantly without feeling too much—classy, poised, powerful.

My mother stands opposite her, a sharp glare directed at me. Her eyes are full of the usual fury, but there's something different, something I can't quite place. The older woman, however, gazes at me with a strange, almost tender interest. It unsettles me; no one has ever looked at me that way, and I can't help but wonder if she's pretending, faking it to hurt me more when the real reason for her visit is revealed. They always do.

The woman's expression softens even more as she takes a step toward me, and instinctively, I brace myself. My body tenses, every muscle preparing for the blow I've learned to expect. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it. But the hit never comes.

Slowly, I open one eye and see her standing right in front of me, a shocked expression on her face. Her hand twitches slightly as if she almost reached out to touch me, then she seems to collect herself.

"Hello," she says, her voice gentler than I'd expected. "My name is Alice. I'm your grandmother."

I stare at her, her words not quite sinking in. Grandmother? I never even knew I had one. I swallow, unsure of how to respond, so I settle for politeness. "Hello, Miss. How can I help you?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

A hint of confusion crosses her face, as if my formal tone surprises her. "Well, hello, Rose. No need for 'Miss'—makes me feel old." She gives me a warm, genuine smile, the kind that reaches her eyes. "I'm here to take you awa—"

"No! You can't!" my mother's shrill voice cuts her off, venomous and desperate. "She is my daughter!" Her eyes are wide, furious, and just a little bit fearful.

Alice meets my mother's gaze with a steely look that demands silence. My mother shuts up immediately, an expression on her face I've never seen before: submission. It's like Alice's stare has the power to strip her bare, exposing her fears.

Alice turns back to me, her focus unwavering. "I'm here to take you away for good, so you can meet your siblings and your father." Her voice is calm but firm, as if this is a decision she's already made, and nothing will change her mind. "Could you go pack your bags, pumpkin?" She asks this so kindly, with a tone that feels almost... loving.

Without a second thought, I nod and head to my room. My heart races, a mix of hope, confusion, and fear swirling inside me. I've dreamed of leaving this place, of being free from the oppressive weight of my mother's wrath, but now that it's happening, it doesn't feel real. My hands shake as I gather my few belongings—a few changes of clothes, a battered old book, a toothbrush. I carefully tuck away my hidden phone, the one I spent two years saving up for. It's one of the few things I have that's really mine.

As I'm packing, I hear muffled shouts from the living room. My grandmother's voice is sharp, scolding, cutting through my mother's protests. "How could you let this happen? How could you treat her like this?" The words are muffled, but the anger in her voice is clear. And for once, I'm not the one she's angry at. I close my suitcase, a strange sense of relief settling over me.

I walk back to the living room, suitcase in hand. "I'm done, Miss," I say quietly, addressing Alice.

Her face softens, and she nods. "Go to the car, sweetheart. I'll be out in a moment." Her voice is gentle, almost as if she's trying to reassure me.

I step out of the house, the cool evening air hitting my face. The man from earlier is still standing by the car, and as I approach, he opens the door for me with a respectful nod. I hesitate, glancing back at the house. It's been a prison, a place of pain and fear, but it's still the only home I've known. Leaving feels strange, like I'm shedding an old skin.

I settle into the car, feeling the leather seats beneath me. A few moments later, Alice joins me, her face soft as she looks at me, almost... proud. She turns to the driver and nods. "We're ready to leave."

As the car begins to move, Alice looks at me, her eyes filled with a warmth I've never seen before. "Let's go meet your family," she says, her voice full of genuine happiness.

For the first time in a long while, I feel something I can barely recognize: hope.

I hope the you guys like the story so far.

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