Roses | Peter Pevensie

Chapter Two

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Rosemary woke up gasping for breath with tear-stained cheeks and pain in her foot. Looking around, she was back in her bedroom, with the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. The sun was just beginning to peak over the farmhouse at the edge of their property and the birds had already begun chirping. It must be closer to 5:30, which meant that Rosemary had gotten around a full hour and a half of sleep entirely undisturbed. It was also all that she would be getting - of that she was sure.

Looking around her room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary - except for the pain in her foot which felt a lot like it had in her dream when she'd stepped on that twig. Pulling the blanket up her legs, Rosemary discovered that the corner of Gulliver's Travels was the culprit. She'd pushed it up against the wall in her sleep.

"Had to buy the hardcover," Rosemary muttered, placing it on the creaky floor. Rolling back over to look out the window, Rosemary pulled the blanket up to her chin, content to watch the sunrise like she had done every morning in the past few months. A small, stupid part of her wished to see Daniel walking across the field, but she knew that wouldn't happen. It couldn't. Because M.I.A. meant he was either stuck behind enemy lines or dead someplace where they couldn't find him, and she didn't like either of those options.

So instead, she watched the sky change from dark blue to purple to red in a serene and beautiful way. She couldn't see the ruins of London from Brighton nor any smoke curling up towards the sky. So far, the day was beautiful.

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Though the rising sun was beautiful, the day quickly turned dreary. Rain pounded against the window panes and the house shuttered as Rosemary made her way down the stairs into the small living room. It was only eight o'clock so her mother would still be asleep. Unfortunately, a rainy day presented her mother a perfect excuse not to do anything at all that day - not that she ever used one. Ever since Daniel and her father went off to war, Rosemary's mother had been quite absent. She would either sit in her husband's favourite chair and drank or hide away in her bedroom and drank.

Rosemary was more than glad that most of the farmhands were underaged, so they hadn't lost many when a lot were called off to serve their country. Sighing, she started cleaning the living room, picking up pillows that had been thrown on the floor and refolding blankets. After that, she moved to the kitchen - washing the dirty dishes and then drying and putting them away.

Hours later, Rosemary was done. She had cleaned the entirety of the small house and not once had she seen her mother, which was now a bonus.

Rosemary frowned, looking up at her parents' bedroom door. It was closed over but not shut tight. Sadness, worry, and curiosity prompted Rosemary to gently place the broom back in the closet before swiftly climbing up the stairs without making a noise. She'd quickly learned the loud spots on the boards when she and Daniel used to play hide and seek.

That was when they were younger and times were easier. When Daniel wasn't so stupid as to go off on a suicide mission for fame and glory. He didn't go to war to fight; he went to prove himself and Rosemary couldn't help but think how foolish Daniel was. He was the perfect person in Rosemary's eyes - always had been and always will be. He didn't need to prove anything to Rosemary.

At the top of the stairs, Rosemary peeked through the crack in the door. Was her mother even alive? She hadn't heard anything from her room the entire time she'd been cleaning, and she'd been listening.

Inside, her mother was sitting on her velvet pink chair, looking out over their land. A glass of alcohol was in her hand - no more than half. Her eyes were distant and unfocused. She was lost in her head.

Had she been drinking all night?

For the longest time, neither of the Bennett girls moved. Rosemary held her breath as she focuses on her mother, looking for a sign of life. She didn't want to go in if her mother was alive. She wouldn't know what to say. Not anymore.

But then she watched as her mother let out an exasperated sigh and brought the heavy glass up to her lips. When she brought it back down, it was empty. Rosemary's eyes dropped to the floor. Before the war, her mother rarely drank - only on special occasions. But now, she drank all day and every day, and it was breaking Rosemary's heart.

Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come. Rosemary's mother rose on wobbly legs and she walked over to the small table beside the wardrobe, where more alcohol waited to be poured and consumed. But instead of walking in a straight line, Rosemary's mother tiptoed around the room, carefully and slowly. Immediately, Rosemary knew what her mother was doing - avoiding the creaky parts in the floor.

At any other time of day and in any other situation, it could be seen as a kind gesture - a mother being quiet, careful not to wake her sleeping daughter. But it was nearing three in the afternoon and Rosemary hadn't been the quietest while cleaning. She'd even found herself singing under her breath occasionally.

No. The only reason Rosemary's mother would be so careful as to not make a single sound would be to avoid her own daughter.

And that was what shattered Rosemary's heart to pieces.

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Dear Mother,

I am leaving. And I don't think you will see me again - not that you seem to want to. I know that Dad and Daniel leaving was hard. It still is. Especially because Daniel wasn't supposed to go. Not yet anyways. I wish every day that Daniel and Daddy would walk back through the front door, safe and sound. But we are at war, and unfortunately, this isn't one of Daddy's fantasy adventure novels.

Although I am leaving, I still love you. I always will. I know my absence will not fill the hole in your heart, but I cannot live like this anymore. At first, it was just the house that felt empty, but now it is my heart that feels empty as well.

Every day, my hope on Daniel and Daddy's safe return dwindles and I have finally reached my breaking point. There is no hope left in my heart. And I wish that I hadn't given up, but I have. And I don't think there is anything that can be done to change that.

I understand why you drink, but I wish that doing so didn't mean shutting me out.

If they return, tell Daniel and Daddy I love them, and that my chocolate stash is at the bottom of my pants drawer.

I love you,
- Rosebud

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