Roses are Red

Rose's Devils - Story 3

This story is mostly to give a more fulfilling conclusion, so it will be shorter than the others. Also, I wrote this before my writing skills were as developed as they are now (which isn't saying much), and I can see that the storyline is a bit weird. Don't worry, my next story (Upside Down) will be better!

I yawned as I went through my standard waking routine; stretch, toss, turn, bury face in pillow, snooze alarm. "Five more minutes, mommy," I mumbled, my pillow cloth muffling the words.

"Shut up, weirdo!" I felt a jarring pain in the back of my skull as a large, overstuffed pillow was thrown at my defenseless head. I grunted in discomfort, but kept my eyes closed for a few more moments.

Pushing myself up, I gazed around in confusion. I lay on a small mattress with my favorite pink pillow underneath my head. Thin blankets covered most of my body, and an open window was at the foot of my bed. "Where am I?" I wondered aloud. As I turned my head to face the other side of the room, which had a bed and window identical to my own, a horrifying sight greeted me, and I sprang back to the opposite side of my bed, cowering behind the sheets.

"Ah! Please don't kill me, Brent! I'm sorry I rejected your kiss and sent you to jail, and I completely regret it with all my heart, so just spare me, please! I'm so sorry!" I pleaded, close to tears. 

The person on the other side of the room glared at me, as if to say, "You psychopath! What's wrong with you?", then turned back to packing its bag, rolling its eyes.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to think. What was going on? I racked my brains for a moment. All of a sudden, I recalled my dream of the night before. I had been in my bedroom, alone, and Brent had visited. He had spoken to me, his voice so frightening that I had begun to sweat in my sleep: "Rose, I'm coming for you. You think you're safe, but you don't know a thing about me (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0C_oNMH0GTk) or what I'm capable of. Be warned, Rose, be warned!" The last word had echoed into the darkness as I had struggled to wake.

I finally took another look at my surroundings, and remembered where I was; my college dorm. I sighed in relief and relaxed. The person in this room was not Brent, but only my roommate, Francis Beaulieu. Her last name, meaning "beautiful place", didn't fit her appearance or personality. This brute of a French lady hadn't shaved or washed, and the resulting picture was the spitting image of Brent Harlem.

Francis turned to me, her shoulder-length, wavy brown hair swishing and her belly fat jiggling. She swore at me, then said, "See you, idiot." I grinned. From her, that was as close to an "I'll miss you" as I was going to get.

"I love you too, roomie!" I smiled and waved goodbye. Francis merely scowled and stormed out the door.

* * *

"Rose, darling, over here!" I watched as a sleek black sedan pulled up in front of my dorm building. A small, pale pink, chubby hand waved from the lowered window.

"Hey, Mrs. Lynch! How was your day?" I called to the sweet but plump woman that I now knew so well. I began to wheel my suitcase from the door to her car when I felt two hands grab my waist.

"Ahh!" I shrieked, spinning around to face my attacker. I raised my hands up into a guard, my karate training automatically kicking in. "Wait... Ryan?"

"That's right! Your favorite guy!" My boyfriend grinned at me and opened his arms, expecting a hug. Instead, I sucker-punched him in the gut with all my might. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I yelled as he doubled over in pain, wheezing. I folded my arms and frowned. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Couldn't- miss chance- to see- you," he gasped, clutching his stomach. He smirked feebly and added, "Thanks for the warm welcome."

"Ha, ha, so funny," I countered sarcastically, but it took quite a bit of effort to hide the joy I felt at seeing his adorable face again. I tried yet again to lug my heavy bags to the car without success. Ryan attempted to assist me, but was unable to lift even my small duffel bag. "What did you put in here, rocks?" he grunted, already sweating.