His Little FLOWER (Lucifer's Flower) ✓

Chapter 1

"You don't know me,
You only know What
I allow you to know"

_________________*

Hearing the most grating sound of my alarm, I groggily silenced it and burrowed deeper into my warm blanket, rubbing my eyes to clear my vision. I turned to the other side and pulled the blanket over my head, shielding myself from the intrusive sunlight.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard my room door creak open. I already knew who it was, but I stayed hidden in my cocoon.

"I know you're awake, little girl," a deep, gentle voice called out. I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle any sound.

I heard footsteps approaching my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, hoping he would leave me alone. But soon, the blanket was yanked away, exposing me to the world.

Groaning, I turned to face him, my dark brown eyes meeting his identical pair. "Dad!"

"What? Get up now, it's already past waking up time!" he said, pointing at the clock on my nightstand. It was past 8.

"I have nothing to do, remember?" I grumbled, annoyed that my precious sleep was being interrupted. It was still too early for someone with nothing to do.

Though I actually had nothing to do, my high school just finished, so I applied to a few colleges. Based on the results, I'm confident I can get into the medical college I desire. Despite being a brilliant student, I was never a big fan of high school or college. According to my teachers, I would rather choose to stay in my cozy bed and warm blanket.

It's not that I hate school or college. I just despise public places in general. Blame my social anxiety.

I looked up at my father, who was staring back at me with one brow raised. Even though he is in his late forties, he doesn't look a day over thirty. His blonde hair contrasts with my wild brown locks, and while we share the same brown eyes, his tall stature is unlike my shorter frame, though I am taller than average. His pale white skin is different from my abnormal pallor, which looks as if someone drained all the blood from my veins. I resemble my mother in many ways, except for the eyes.

That's why Dad loves me more, he says. Looking at me reminds him of my mother. The way he maintains and handles everything after my mom's death is unbelievable. He loved her so much, and it's rare to find such enduring love.

I hate seeing him struggle with my problems. I hate seeing him in pain because of my suffering. It's supposed to be my problem, my pain, and my struggle, yet he has to deal with it all because of me.

"You are thinking about that, my love," Dad said. I was about to deny it, but his warning look made me stop. It was useless to argue. He knows me better than anyone.

"Stop worrying. I will do anything in my power to protect my baby," Dad said lovingly, patting my head. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I controlled myself because he always stayed tense.

"I know you will," I replied, knowing it was true. I should really stop thinking about it.

"Now get up and get ready. I prepared breakfast, and Jennifer and Eric will be here soon," Dad said, making me dash to the bathroom. My friends, especially Jennifer, would not leave me alone if they arrived and found me still unprepared.

What else can they expect from me? I'm not a morning person.

I quickly went through my morning routine, donning a cream sweatshirt and a pair of dark jeans. I pulled my long, wild hair into a messy bun and applied some mascara and lip gloss. Ready at last, I made my way out.