Dark Desire

Chapter 02

Rose's POV
I facepalmed myself before looking into the picture, my best friend Daisy was about to post as an Instagram story. "Oh come on, you look cute, shut up" she said, clicking the 'post' button attempting to post the story. "Are you kidding me? Just see how much of an asshole I look there" I replied snatching her phone, but it was too late. Some guy named, Eran already saw it. "Ugh" I groaned, giving her a stern look as she ran away. "I love you too" she said, sticking her tongue out.

Well, I've always had a number of different problems in my life. But despite all of life's attempts to kill me, here I am, still alive and holding on for dear life.

 My parents died when I was seventeen years old and ever since that I have been living with Rachael and Mike. My parents were killed when they were crushed beneath the wheels of an affluent monstrous man's expensive vehicle. The night is still fresh in my memory and it still haunts my dreams.  My mother pushed me to pull me away from the collision, and I still recall how callously the driver drove away never even thinking of trying to save us, save them. 

I have tried a lot to move on from the grief of my past but I was never able to. Whenever I see someone having fun with their parents I get reminded of that very family who hunted my happiness down. I start to wonder about the amount of lives who lost their rights of existence  because of that man. Rachael and Mike, they are like the best people in this world. 

They never made me feel that I'm any less than their own daughter, Veronica.  Rachael was my mother's best friend and after my parent's demise she and her loving husband, Mike brought me up.  They tried a lot to bring back the spark which used to reside in my eyes, which went down the graves along with my precious parents. They couldn't. 

Because

I'm someone who doesn't really have a good past. It's a fact that I carry like a shackle, clinking with every step I take, though the sound is one only I can hear. Others see me—just another face in the crowd, just another name on a list. But they don't know, they can't know, what's simmering beneath the surface of my skin. They don't know the ghosts that keep me company in the dead of night, when sleep is a luxury I can rarely afford. I suppose that's a blessing. After all, who would want to get close to someone like me?

I don't have a good past, but it's more than that. It's like my very existence is tainted, darkened by something far beyond mere regret. You see, regret is too light a word. It doesn't convey the weight that's pressing down on me, threatening to crush whatever's left of my soul. No, what I feel is closer to despair—a kind of bleakness that gnaws away at you, a relentless, clawing thing that never lets go.

The people who cross my path don't know the truth. They see a girl with shadows under her eyes, a girl who walks a little too quickly, always looking over her shoulder. Maybe they think I'm paranoid, or maybe they just assume I'm another troubled soul, one of the many in this city who's lost her way. And they wouldn't be wrong—about being lost, at least. But the truth, the full truth, is something much darker.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I could just disappear. If I could walk out of this life and into another, clean and unmarked, where the past doesn't follow like a specter. But I know that's impossible. The past is a living thing, a monster that's latched onto my back, its claws sunk deep into my flesh. No matter how far I run, it's always there, whispering in my ear, reminding me of the things I've done. The things I can never undo.

I live in the shadows now, where the light is too bright, too revealing. I keep to myself, not because I want to, but because I have to. It's safer this way—safer for me, and safer for everyone else. It's better that they don't get too close, better that they never see what's hiding behind my eyes. Because if they did, if they knew, they'd run. And I wouldn't blame them.