I've always loved roses.
However, my mother told me everyday to always be careful of the thorns, because it's like playing with fire.
I'll get hurt.
After all, there goes a saying, "If you prick your finger on a red rose that looks black, you will die."
I don't believe it. Not even one bit.
You see, a thorn protects a rose, harming only those who would steal the blossom. A rose's greatest attribute lives in the thorn.
It's what makes the rose utterly beautiful. Although if a thorn fails to protect the rose, then it will wither and die, turning black and ugly.
******
I've always tried living in the shadows. I've always tried to keep my walls up.
I tell myself I'm strong. I tell myself that I'm fine, I'm okay with who I am.
But day after day, I seem to be losing my so-called strength. I seem to be breaking my walls.
I can't let that happen.
Everyday, I try to absorb myself into the hundreds and hundreds of books I have. I try to absorb my thoughts by hanging out with my friends.
It doesn't work.
My mind still reels back to that haunting night, the night where all hell broke loose.
I want to erase that memory forever.
*******
Thanks for reading this prologue, although it may be a bit short for you guys!! Chapter 1 will be coming very soon :)
Special thanks to one of my best friends for helping me write and put this together, a.k.a. the co-writer! Y'all should definitely go follow her --- Niralo2003
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