Red Red Rosie

Chapter Seven

It was for the best.

It was all for the best.

I picked up the loose articles that Luke dropped, put them back in the box and locked it up again. Staring at that wooden antique, I felt as though I was paralysed. Was this what my life was? Trapped in a prison of loneliness, a cage of my own making, with only a small wooden box of memories to keep me company.

Was chasing my youth worth it? Was any of it worth it? Luke brought light back into my life. I allowed to see a glimpse of it, and it was glorious. He made me feel so young.

Having to let him go broke my heart.

But it was for the best.

I had to give him up so that he may have light in his life. I would only bring emptiness and despair. What future did he have with me? I had to sacrifice my happiness so that he could one day be happy himself.

I made the right decision. I knew I did. But why did it hurt so much? It crushed into my chest - a feeling of deep, agonising loss. What we had was the real thing. If I had any right to the real thing, I knew that's what it was.

I have no right to that though. I waved that right the day I first used the lipstick. The lipstick I felt a strong yearning for every single moment. I longed to feel its heat under my skin, to feel the energy seep into my bones, to feel all the aches and pains of age dissolve into youthful bliss.

I ached for a taste.

Luke was gone, there was nothing to stop me, no reason for me to resist.

I was drawn to my mother's dressing table, to that drawer decorated with a lonely rose. As if in a trance, I walked through to my bedroom, found the key, unlocked the cylinder's safe place and took it out. I held it up in front of my face. Sitting upon the upholstered stool, I looked into the mirror and was disgusted at the sight of the countless lines I allowed to crease my face over the last six months.

How that boy blinded me.

Love blinded me.

I took the cap off the lipstick and twisted the bottom as far as it could go. A tiny sliver was all that was left. Indeed, it was just enough for one more use. I had one more chance to feel the warmth - to see my youthful glow return one last time.

I slowly painted my lips from edge to edge, and once I finished colouring them there was not one tiny crimson drop left within the golden cylinder in my hand.

A deep sigh left me as I put the cap back on, then I placed the empty shell of my magical gift onto the dressing table, and looked into my reflection's eyes.

They looked sad, desperate.

What was to become of her?

A heat prickled within my skin. It grew hotter and hotter. It was unbearably hot. Too hot. I felt the magic scorching me all over. It was agony. I writhed upon my stool, my fingertips clawed into the painted wood of the table. My excursions caused the golden cylinder and other receptacles to topple over with loud crashes; luckily, nothing smashed.

My breath was caught in my throat, my teeth were bared.

Something wasn't right.

I looked in the mirror and saw black lines branch across my chest, they crept up along my neck and worked their way over my face. That deep darkness pushed its way across the whites of my eyes, then took up its throne within my irises. The sight scared me. I recoiled and stepped away from the dressing table. My breath, escaping its prison, ripped out of me in sudden bursts.

The heat then suddenly subsided and a blissful, cool wave crashed over me bringing me much needed relief. A calming sigh left me and I returned to my seat, curiosity inspiring my actions. I looked into the mirror and saw my youthful face stare back at me. I saw my blue eyes, rose pink cheeks and line-free skin framed once again by my golden beach waves.