Two dead roses.

Rose.

I saw standing at the train station for a little while, watching the train go. Watching Rose leave.

"Come on honey. Let's go home" my mom said.

But what would home be without her? Of course, I had other friends at school. The ones who loved me and cared for me. The only problem was, I couldn't love them back the way I loved Rose. Some people come in your lives only to stay there forever.

We got back in the car and drove back home. Unfortunately, this time, everyone wasn't silent.

"Rosamund, we know you'll miss her. But you have a great life ahead of you. You're only 17 for God's sake. Cheer up, my little girl! We can always go meet her when you want. And maybe you two could exchange letters. Oh, I know you'll be chatting with her online all day. It's not that big a deal as it seems right now. You'll see ", my dad tried to comfort me. I chose not to reply.

A thousand things were going on in my head. Will she ever want to talk to me again? Did I lose her in the end? I didn't want to.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Rose! Look at this" I called out to her as I showed her my new painting. The canvas was blue, with a lit of purple. In the middle of all these swirls and stains of blue and purple, there was a bird, flying.

"You've got talent Ross", she had said, "put it to good use."

"Like how?" I had asked.

"I don't know. Maybe sell these for charity. You know what, forget about good use. Do it because you love to. I'm sure something good will come out of it in the end".

"Uh-huh". I was focused on finishing the last few strokes. "I know perfectly well what good will come out of this particular painting".

"Are you giving it to me again? Ross, I swear my house is full of your paintings. Maybe it'll crumble someday because of the number of nails I had to hammer in the walls to get your paintings up". She had moved over and was looking deeply at the painting now, admiring the hues. I took one look at her eyes and could almost see the reflection of purple in them.

"Yes, I'm giving it to you. Don't you know how much I love painting for you? I'm not an artist Rose but I get a lot of inspiration from you. You've always pushed me to my best."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I walked straight back to my room after getting back home. I crashed on the bed and tried to avoid pretty much everything and everyone. I don't know how many hours passed until I finally fell asleep.

In my dreams, I was sitting atop a very low building. It had 4 floors and was vacant. My whole dream was empty with not a single soul in sight. Suddenly, I started falling. With every passing second, my surrounding got darker and darker. I kept falling for a considerably long time. It was pitch black then.

I woke up at dinner time. And although I had not wanted to socialise for the entire day, my stomach couldn't keep up with this. So I got up, stretched and staggered downstairs. I could hear distinct conversation coming from the dining hall. Two very worried voices were hushing over the sound of the television. Mom and Dad.

"But how could this happen? What reason did the authorities give?", I heard my dad.

"Oh, I don't care about any damned authorities. Poor, poor Rose. I had watched her grow. What will we tell Rosamund?", my mom's voice was breaking.

I froze.

What were they talking about? What had happened? I strained my ears a bit more to catch the conversation but heard nothing more. I could only hear my mom sobbing.

My mind was wandering. I was imagining millions of bad things that could have happened while I was sleeping. My head was feeling very dizzy and I felt the need to sit down.

Then I heard it.

'one of the worst accident cases ever..... Louisiana hasn't seen anything so tragic in years...'

Tragic. Accident. Death.

Rose.