Poison And Roses

TW; Sexual trauma, sexual themes, language, abuse, and violence

I sat with a notebook and pen in my hands. My leather chair reflecting the light coming through the shades.
I looked at the woman before me. She has been seeing me for months now, and I still don't understand how she can be 200 years old. My patient didn't look over the age of 25. Her long brown hair and dull blue eyes. Her face mask covering the scars of trauma.
Through the months she has been seeing me, I still can't understand how she managed to make it this far. To make it to my office.
The first month here, all she could mutter was that she was the roses, while he was the poison. Even now, she has not explained to me the meaning, nor has she explained to me who poison is.