Red Like Roses, Black Like Clouds

I returned home. After two years being "dead" I'm sure my parents would be happy to see me.

"Mum? Dad?" I knocked on the door. They'll be happy to see me not dead. 

""Adele?" My mum opened the door. Her face confused and in tears. My dad quickly rushed to the door.

"Adele?"  He, too, was confused and was also in tears the moment he saw my face. 

They let me in and I sat on the couch, facing them. I knew they were going to unleash the holy grail on me but I didn't think it would've gone out like this. 

"Why did you fake your death? Were on a horrible loan or something? Did you get into drugs?" My dad came up with all these different possibilities. 

"I'm a queen," I said calmly. "I faked my death so I didn't have to live in this world anymore. Terabithia is real."

I sounded crazy but everything coming from my mouth was truth.

"Knew it. If you told us you were on drugs, we could've helped you," My dad said, sounding rather calm in the situation.

"We were heartbroken," My mother was shaking. "We thought you were dead. DEAD! And you just come waltzing back into my house thinking you can jus live here now? We went through heart wrenching pain because of you. Your sister had two years without a sister and we had two years without our daughter. Because. You. Were. Dead."

"You have to liste-" I was cut off.

"Do you understand when someone is dead?! We went to your funeral! Everyone cried! There was sorrow everywhere!" My mother continued.

"No but I'll ta-" Again.

"No no no no no. You listen to me. You're going to stay here make a new life. Create one we'll help you. Get your life back together," She was starting to stress me out. A lot. My blood boiled and I broke.

"Adele!" My mum called out. "What's happening to you?"

I didn't know. My skin was changing. It was changing to white- pale. And my katana turned to into an oversized bouquet of red roses on my back. My outift changed to a raggy jet-black dress. 

My head spun and suddenly my intention of coming here changed. 

I pulled my bouquet from my back and put it towards me. I held it like it was my katana, with a strong grip. Thorns suddenly detatched itself from the bouquet. Thirty giant thorns flew towards my narcissistic parents and stabbed them, left, right and centre. All of them dragged down to the feet, making wounds metres long. 

As I happily walked towards them, thorns automatically grew from the stems of the roses.

I raised my hand and the blood on the floor raised with it. I bent my arm in, at a nighty-degree angle between the wall, then quickly bending it out again, making a words on the wall. 

Shush, shush.

Is what you used to say to me.

Now I say 'quiet.'

Now you sleep forever.

I happily skipped off, out the door and changed back into my original form. 

Crying.