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she was a rose
in the hands of those
who had no intention
of keeping her
- RK
Saturday came around sooner than expected and I was no more prepared for Rosa's party. I stood in the corner of my room facing the small, oak wardrobe containing the majority of my clothes - the rest were in small piles on the floor, carelessly flung and screwed up. With my arms crossed against my chest and my eyes deep in concentration and indecision, my phone vibrated disrupting my thoughts all of a sudden. I picked my phone up from the bed where it lay and chuckled when I opened the text I'd received. It was Rosa (no surprise there) reminding me, once again, to bring alcohol. There was absolutely no way I would forget the one thing that would give me the confidence and willpower to talk to a room full of people who most likely didn't even remember my name.
In the end I'd settled on dark jeans, a light red top with thin straps and a cream, wool cardigan to wear over the outfit. Neither had I gone too crazy with my hair having just scooped it all into a messy bun atop my head, leaving my makeup fairly plain too. My overall look matched my mood; no high expectations.
I'd decided to walk to Rosa's house, despite the twenty minute walk and bought a small, cheap bottle of vodka on the way over. It hadn't occurred to me until after I'd paid for and left the small corner shop that it had not only been my first time buying alcohol in England, but my first time buying alcohol at all.
I never really drank when we were living in Australia, and when I did it was bought by my parents. I hadn't attended many parties either as I'd remained fairly distant towards the people at my school as I'd always assumed our time in Queensland was temporary and sooner or later we'd come home, however that wasn't the case and somewhere gnawing away at the back of my mind I'd known that but I just hadn't wanted to believe it.
It was colder than I'd anticipated and the air was bitter with the imminent threat of rain. I wrapped my thick cardigan tighter around me and picked up the pace, cursing myself for not bringing a coat. I rounded the corner, and followed the sound of consistent thumping dance music eventually leading me to Rosa's doorstep. God help her neighbours I thought.
Damn. She looked incredible. And it all seemed so effortless and natural. For her anyway. All she wore was a fitting, black turtle neck over some dark jeans with a pair of trendy and slightly scuffed ankle boots, yet she made it look all so chic and easy. Her long black hair framed her face and fell just below her chest. As Rosa stood in the doorway, a gleaming smile etched onto her face with her left hand outstretched towards me, welcoming me in and a small red cup in her right, the looming doubt and small crowd of butterflies in the pit of my stomach intensified.
