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Chapter Two

Wilting Rose
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Professor P.O.V

I failed her.

My daughter.

The eldest. 

My first born child.

She's gone.

Now all I have is memories of her.

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9 Years Ago

"Dad?" My eldest daughter, Blossom, calls.

"Blossom, you should be sleeping. It's late." I say, my voice is quiet.

"I can't sleep." She looks down at her feet.

"Why?" I ask, still whispering.

"I don't want to be leader. Why can't Buttercup or Bubbles have this spot?" She spits out, her light pink eyes filling with tears.

"Blossom, listen. Buttercup is the toughest fighter. Bubbles is the joy. You are the smart one. The commander, leader, and strategist." I explain.

"I don't wanna be leader! I hate it! Everyome criticizes me. If I mess up,  that's on me. The one they blame is me, I can't lead it. I don't wanna be blamed for deaths or destruction. Please give this spot to someone else!" She cries, her tears falling, her face red.

"Blossom, I can't do that. You were chosen to be leader, why not wear it with pride?" I try to reason with her.

"I wasn't chosen! I'm forced to be leader. I would never wear a name that I never accepted with pride!" She yells at me.

"Blossom, calm down. I will talk with the mayor tomorrow. Okay?" I say.

She nods and wipes her tears.

"Thank you, dad. Night." I nod and she walks back into her room.
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If only I had listened to her.

She was only six years old, when she took role of leader.

She had no choice. The mayor wanted her to be it.

I had no say either.

She was put in the spotlight at a young age.

Her sisters were never blamed if the fights caused deaths or destruction, it was Blossom.

She was blamed and yelled at.

She was bullied and forced to listen.

I, her father, failed in protecting her.

Buttercup and Bubbles, they had no idea. This was the only way to protect her.

I remember her last time asking to stop being leader.

She was eight years. Two years after they were put into the spot light.
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7 years ago

"Professor?" My eight year old daughter calls.

I put my book down and look at Blossom.

"Yes?" I respond.

"They yelled at me again." Her eyes are red, her face pale, and her hair a mess.