The Red Rose

A Fight and a Wish

A Fight and a Wish contains:
 slight violence, alcohol, gaslighting, nightmare

Clementine's P.O.V

Christmas Eve: West Virginia

I woke up one morning, and it was Christmas Eve. I was wearing my normal pajamas, as usual: light pink long sleeved with matching bottoms. Believe it or not, I really do like pink. I may sometimes show an intimidating side, or a "tomboyish" style; but that doesn't mean I can't like pink any less. I'm just embarrassed to say it myself, though.

I pulled and moved aside my blankets, and got up. My alarm clock had the numbers that told me its time: seven fifty-nine. It was really early, considering that I usually stay up all night drawing and reading. I went over to my clothes that I had hung up, grabbed them from the hangers and took them to the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror after closing and locking the white sturdy door. I just kept looking, and looking. I'm not sure how long I actually spent looking into the mirror, I just remember thinking about my reflection even while I was turning on the shower and was in the shower myself. I got out eventually and dried myself off, did the usual and put away my clothes in my room. I wanted to reach out to my soulmate, they've definitely got to do something for Christmas. If they celebrate it.

I grabbed a pen and placed it into my pocket, I'll talk to them later I thought to myself. I went downstairs and surprise hugged my dad. "Whoa, watch it I'm bakin' the eggs!" He exclaimed trying to get me out of the way. "Bout to burn 'em?" I jokingly replied. My dad was great, while I did have my on and offs with him; he's the best dad I could ever ask for. "Haha," he rolled his eyes, but in a joking way. "I'd rather have cooked eggs for breakfast, not a cooked Clementine." He placed down his spatula, chuckling. He went over to the hilltop table with fake fruit and a disarray of books and receipts--and where I sat. "So, how you like your eggs this time, kiddo?" He asked, leaning on the hilltop with his arms folded over each other to protect his ribs so they wouldn't have to get hurt. "The usual, dad"
"Over easy?"
"Overrr easy" I repeated.

"Say, you having a good Christmas break so far?" He asked me while I was grabbing my gameboy on the coffee table on the couch. "Yeah dad, I get to play my games now that school is over. Do not remind me when it's coming back..." I shivered dramatically. My dad laughed, then proceeded to tell me stories from his years in high school.

***

Violet's P.O.V

Christmas Eve: New York 2015

At least I didn't commit crime, yet. Besides being a criminal of sleeping in, somebody give me a fucking medal already. I stay up all night and sleep all day, my sleep schedule is fucked. With a crappy sleep schedule, here it is with Christmas as well.

I hate Christmas.
Fine, call me a Grinch or whatever. I hate it, I really do.

I climbed out of my bed, shoving away my blanket and brushed my teeth. I immediately went over to the white and—frankly, really dirty—fridge. It was quite empty, actually was pretty concerning. We've never had more than twenty items in our shelves, with the cost of everything nowadays its almost impossible to live like like a boy in a mansion. I grabbed an apple from the fridge, and took a bite out of it. It was really peaceful for once, but I know it might not last. So I did what I usually do while my mother is out: try and actually keep it clean, get dressed, leave a note saying I'll be out for a few hours and that was it.