White Roses
Nhica Moico
(Edited)
(11/09/12)
Part One
Shane watched her best friend picked all the stuff she had threw across the emerald yard; the clothes splashing together and clashing. It was no use to bicker and mourn, he was gone, he wasn't hers, Shane thought. Her hand automatically went to her hair, gliding over the tangled curls as she pitied her best friend. Bags were littered underneath her eyes; her hair surprisingly staying the way she wanted it to; not turning into a bird's nest when the cold breeze past. Shane inspected the white roses she had in buried in her grip, her knuckles stark white from gripping the thorn branches; blood running through the crevices of her fingers.
She could no longer look at herself in the mirror, because if she did, she might only remember the features of him. She clutched the prickly branch against her chest, the thorn pricking her chest and allowing a droplet of blood to trickle down her chest. The suffocating pain consumed her, hurting and crying in agony, but it didn't seem to take her mind away from him as she watched them get married. Shane had always wondered why she had to let him go, why she didn't let him know that she loved him.
Her best friend gasped, her fingers clasping over her mouth. Her lips formed a small "O" as she ran to her Shane's side. "What are you doing?!" she bellowed, taking the filthy rose away from her and ushering Shane into the house; ordering Shane to go to the bathroom to clean herself up. She did what she was told, and went to the bathroom robotically, tears staining the edges of her eyes. She didn't know how her life would turned out to be now that he was gone, now that all that plagued her mind was the thought of Red and Holly together, in front of the altar. How he had smiled down at her as if it were a sick joke; the priest announced them husband and wife.
She moved the knob of the sink and let the cold stinging water run on her bloody fingers. Soon enough, her fingers were turned numb and she couldn't feel a thing; like liquor or alcohol running through her system. Like when she spent the time at her best friend's wedding grieving as she witnessed the ceremony. How her best friend Red looked so handsome in his white suit, the white suit she had told him to wear.
It was such a shame if it got ruined, it would be a waste if it get blood stains all over it. Wrecking the cleanliness and purity of the white silk. That's it; maybe she ought to wear white silk, since Red loves silk. But she didn't own any. Shane blinked twice. She sounded thoroughly drunk. Compressing her fingers against her bloodied knuckles, slowly washing the blood stains off her sticky fingers. It wouldn't be such a pretty sight if he saw her in such a state. She had to be strong like he told her to be, and face all her problems. But she didn't know how she could handle all of this when he was gone already. A knock on the door brought her to reality, making her snap her head in that direction. The door bursted open and saw her friend Anastasia poke her head in. "Someone's here for you. He wanted to say a few things before he goes, "Anastasia said, nodding at her and leaving the room.
Red was here and he wanted to talk to her. Maybe he came here to say something she wanted to hear from his lips? Shane shook her head. No, what a ridiculous idea. He was a married man now, of course. She went back to her room, and unlocked the door. It revealed a six foot tall man, who looked grim and worried.
YOU ARE READING
White Roses
Подростковая литератураMaybe if Shane had told him, maybe if she did she would have been the girl in a white dress with white roses in her hands. Not her friend Holly, who had looked stunning in her dress. Maybe if Shane confessed, she would had been the girl in front of...
