Black Roses

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~*Chapter 1*~

I stared out the window at the falling snow.  It glistened as though handfuls of sparkles were falling through the sky, not snowflakes.

I heard soft feet on the carpet as someone entered my room.

“Maybe you should come downstairs, kiddo,” my older brother said.

I didn’t reply as I continued to stare out the window.  I heard him sigh and heard him pad across the floor to sit by me on the window seat.

I could feel his eyes searching my face, which remained impassive.  He sighed.

“Could you at least come downstairs?  You don’t even have to talk to anybody.  Hopefully your presence should get Aunt Joanne off my back about you not being down there.” He said.

I smiled at him sadly.

“I suppose I could, “ I sighed, “but only for a little while.”

“That’s my girl,” my brother said as he grabbed my hand to pull me out of my room and down the stairs.

I couldn’t help but stare at the amount of people that showed up.

My dad caught sight of my brother and I, and he broke off his conversation with some guy to come over and talk to me.

He smiled at me, “You look amazing, honey.  You look like-“ he broke off suddenly, but I knew what he was going to say.

You look like her.

Of course I do.  I sighed inwardly.  Even after her death I would still look like her.  I always had.  Nothing like having an identical twin, huh.

My father cleared his throat, “Ah, well…maybe you should go talk to people.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I said.

I saw him grimace.

I hadn’t spoken much since her death, except to answer questions or suggestions.  I had always tried to avoid talking.  My sister was always the one to talk for me.  I never had to say much.

I looked around to see anyone I knew when I noticed them.  Sitting next to the pictures of her.  Black roses.  I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes of the extra wetness that had appeared suddenly.

My brother looked back and forth between us, “This is getting kind of awkward.   Come on,” he said and pulled me upstairs again.

“I know nothing’s going to make you talk to those people downstairs, so I figure, you might as well just stay up here,” he explained.

I knew he had only brought me up here to hide my tears.  But I wouldn’t cry.  I was still grateful to him, though. 

I smiled at him with what I hoped to be a thankful smile.  Apparently it wasn’t.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

“What?” I asked.

“What was that smile about?” he asked.

“That was my ‘thank you’ smile,” I said, feigning disappointment in his inability to decipher my smile.

He grinned, “That’s not what it looked like.  It looked like-“

I didn’t allow him to finish.  I picked a pillow up off my bed and chucked it at him.

He blocked it and began to back out of my room slowly while holding up his hands as if they somehow would stop me from throwing anything else.

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