Dear Diary

Twenty-Four

His name swirled my mind.

Hunter... Hunter... Hunter...

I didn't think I would ever get over his passing. I felt as though if I ever spent a moment not thinking about him and remembering him, I would be acting selfish. I needed to mourn Hunter. I needed to remember him and never live a day without him.

As I waited for Xavier to return, I spotted an old wilted rose at the bottom of the stairs. I grabbed it, twirling it between my fingers. A few crusted petals fell off and landed upon my skirts. I grasped the rose bud in the palm of my hand and began to crush it until it was nothing but crumbles. I opened my hand and began to blow it off my palm. I watched as the rose pieces drifted in the gentle wind. It put me at ease.

I shut my eyes, recalling what the rose had looked like in my hands. I wondered what it had once been when it was alive and still was growing and blooming. It had once been beautiful and bright; wanted. That's why it was pulled. It was glorious.

When I had found it, it had been aged and beaten down. It had crumbled to dust with barely any pressure applied to it. It's life was over. I wondered if it had been a present to someone's love; an engagement of sorts perhaps? The possibilities were endless.

Nonetheless, it was beautiful to me still.

I wondered, in a way, if I was like the rose and the beholder had always been Hunter. I could always recall him looking at me fondly and telling me I was the world and more, yet, I never saw it. Somehow, he always did. Who was supposed to be my beholder now?

"Anabella?"

A voice brought me away from looking at the rose. I recognized it as belonging to Xavier, which made me smile. He had come back. "Where did you run off to?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him.

In his hands were two glasses filled with a shimmery red liquid.

"It looks to me as though you could use a drink." Xavier offered me one of the glasses.

I placed the rose down beside my feet and accepted it, swirling the wine inside. "Thank you."

Xavier sat next to me, not wasting a moment to take a drink of his glass. His attention, however, was on the rose. "What's so special about that old flower that has all your focus?"

With my free hand, I picked the rose back up. It felt familiar between my fingers. "I was just thinking about it, that's all." I paused, shifting my attention back to him. "What do you think of it?"

"The rose?" He raised an eyebrow, then took a drink. Xavier sat the glass down on the stairs between us, taking the rose from my hands. He examined it closer than I had, shrugging once he was done. "It looks sad."

"Just sad?"

"Fine." He pulled his lips to the side, smile lines appearing in his face as he began to smirk. "The petals remind me of the blood shed on the battlefields. The blackness on the edges of each petal is like the blackness that cloaks us all each night. The stem is as though-"

"Xavier!" It brought out a laugh from me. I hit his hand, meaning to be playful.

"Anabella, a rose is a rose. I don't know what you're trying to see in it. It's a rose, and all roses are beautiful no matter their state. Plain and simple, everyone knows that."

I took the rose back from him, keeping my eyes trained upon it. It was a wonder to me how Xavier saw nothing that I did. I knew I was looking too much into it, but how could I help it?

"Trying to stay distracted?" Xavier placed his hand over mine. Our eyes met, and he smiled at me. "A rose isn't going to save you from all those awful things you're feeling." He pulled it free from my hands, placing it back on the ground. His hand returned to mine, even without the rose in it.