She was running, bleeding.
Her body fatigued ,void of energy
But she willed herself to move on , to keep running
She passed through the trees and I saw the knife she held flash.
Despite her bodily fatigue she was able to cut herself once more.
She collapsed after missing notice of caluses in the earth.
And while she fell down to the earth the knife was yanked from her hand and out of sight.
I tried calming her
But her cries cut through my eardrums ike lawnmower blades through patches of dried grass
Distraught I caught her hairband and the rose that fell from her hair.
She was at her end this was the last time I could save her
My fingers candidly ran over the creases in her arms
I looked at her, deep into her eyes
Told her I'd make sure she'd be fine
Ofcourse I wasn't at leisure to ascertain she'd be fine.
I was wondering myself if I'd ever be fine again after this.
But she'd lost grip of the knife and fallen into my arms.
That's how it began.
The battle that ensued I will record in this work
Let me begin at the begin ;
On the 27th of january 1993 Annabella De Fiorossi was rushed into the general hospital accompanied by her husband Silvano Giotto De Fiorossi. after 5 years of marriage and 2 years of trying the day had finally come that the couple was due with child. The birth went smoothly and quickly without much pain to Anna, there was no indecision on the name if it would be a boy his name would be Luka , however would it happen to be a girl they'd name her Rosalie.
Rosalie had allways been the girl that smiled the most in kindergarten and lesser with each passing year. Her parents divorced when she was 7 and even though times were tough on her, kids started bullying her ,see Rosalie was a bit different from normal children normal children liked playing on the swingset but Rosalie preferred drawing and sketching things . She could pass hours with just trying to draw the placid glass office building that rose high above the school and then improvising on that picture. Other children drew too but nobody drew as fine as Rosalie , even at that age you could hand her a pencil and a picture and she'd draw you the finest sketch in mere moments .
The thing she lacked though was imagination. She could only draw what she'd seen. Yet some of her drawings showed things nobody else would have seen . Now I'm not talking about ghosts . No, Rosalie just had a grand sense of detail and if there were pollen in the air Rosalie would draw the pollen . As much as she could capture in a single sight she'd draw and then come back proudly to show.
The other kids never understood neither did most of the parents, she'd been called autistic but that was just not it , she was a talented girl with great vision. She took to herself because she liked peace that was all and that was the final word on the implication of Rosalie being autistic. The bullying took place everywhere not just in school or any specified place but there was no particular reason for it other than her being different from the rest , she was a beautifull young girl and kind to everyone that she'd come in contact with. But perhaps that's not what the world needed her to be so it shut her out.
Rosalie was living with her mother but her mother had lost contact with reality. when Rosalie sought comfort or safety her mother would just bid her to go out and play with her friends even though she must have known in the outside world Rosalie would just be broken down again. Luckily there was one quality that Rosalie possesed it rushed through her veins as it rushes through most Italians : Pride.
She was proud of who she was, she was reserved and she secluded herself from the rest but she was proud, and nobody would be able to take that away from her.
