Blood!
There is blood everywhere.
On my hands, my legs, I can feel something wet dripping down my face.
I try to speak but nothing, yell–nothing. Please, anything to wake me up from this nightmare.
I can't even move my limbs to walk away from this nightmarish memory; I tried.
This one is different from the others. It looks like I'm reliving the parts I didn't see. In the other nightmares, she's already dead. Her body lays limp on the ground, her face is pale and her eyes are wide open but this time she's...breathing?
Her breaths are strangled but she's breathing. She lets out a strangled sob and a hoarse whisper escapes her lips
"Help, help"
I break out into a sob, trying to lift my hand but it doesn't even move an inch.
I watch, unable to help her as she leans her body against the sink, blood slowly dripping to the ground and the other hand clutching her phone tightly against her chest.
"Lex", she whimpers.
My blood runs cold and hot tears burn my eyelids.
She needs me.
"She needed you", the voice whispers
"But you were never there. She was always there but at her dying point when she needed you, you were never there".
I want to scream and tell her I am here and I am sorry.
I try to force my legs up, to reach over to her and tell her not to worry, I was here and I was going to get help but I couldn't
Because even in my nightmares, I didn't help my best friend.
I was always late to help her when she needed it.
"Lex, I'm sorry but...", she pauses letting out a strangled breath
"I don't think I have much time".
Tears streaking down my face, I watch heart-wrenchingly as her breathing slowly decreases with every passing second, the grip on her phone falls slack and it drops to the ground.
Her body follows after and she falls to the ground with a thud and the only thing I can do is stare and sob.
I can't yell, I can't move but I can feel that all too familiar pain accompanied with guilt that hits me hard.
She called countless times, I was late, I wasn't there when she needed me.
I feel my breathing come out in pants, my heart racing, and the onset of a panic attack.
I hear footsteps in the distance and the bathroom door slings open. I see myself; one year ago me dressed in ripped jeans and a crop top. Her hair looks healthy and the curls in it stand out and she has make up on.
A scream invades my thoughts and one year ago me rushes to Rose lying limp on the ground.
Blood is everywhere.
I suddenly jolt awake, drenched in sweat, my hands fisting my bedsheet, my heart racing, and my face covered in tears.
My whole body quivers and I shut my eyes reminding myself to concentrate on my breath.
White flakes of snowfall outside my glass window and the time on my alarm clock read one in the morning.
I unwrap my covers from my body and place my feet on the ground, feeling the bare, cold wood against my feet
I open one of the drawers of my bedside table and take out the scissors from it.
I watch as my blood drips down into the sink, grimacing at the pain in my forearm. I wipe my tears angrily.
Why am I crying?
I caused this.
"You are alive. Do you think you deserve to feel pity for your self".
Self-harm like everything is a reminder. The voices, the nightmare, and the panic attack are all reminders of why she is not here; she needed my help and I wasn't there.
I run my forearm under the tap refusing to shut my eyes tightly to escape from the pain.
No matter how I restrain myself from looking up, my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror like enemies meeting after a long time. I stare at the pathetic image of myself and a smirk tugs on my lips.
"You are a mess", I mutter pointing at my reflection
"You did this", I say, my smirk turning into a frown
"Don't feel bad", I sneer tugging on my hair
"You deserve it, you did this. She needed you and you feel sad for... yourself?. It is your fault she's not here. Do you think you deserve to feel sad for yourself?"
No, I didn't. It is my fault.
I walk back to my room, open the drawer where I took the scissors, and place it back.
The white paper catches my eye before I shut the drawer and I take out rose's letter.
The sight of falling snow outside my window draws my gaze reminding me of a memory in New York.
Rose and I had this tradition where at the end of December, we each calculated the number of pictures we had taken with snowmen.
It sounds strange but we lived in Spring Valley, a place in New York which didn't experience much snow. At the end of the month, anyone who had taken the most pictures with snowmen dared the other person, and no matter how crazy or wild it was; she had to do it.
I remember the last dare. I had lost and she dared me to ding, dong, ditch a house but not ditch; I had to improvise and make an outrageous excuse for why I rang the house owner's bell.
A smile tugs on my lips when I remember telling the old lady who opened the door that the gnome in her front garden looked beautiful and I wanted to find out where she had gotten it.
And when she started tearing up, I felt so bad. It turns out she loved collecting gnomes and the gnome in her garden was the last gift from her husband before he died.
Rose laughed the whole way home when I told her the excuse I made up. I didn't tell her what the old lady had said about her late husband and for the first time, I didn't feel sad about losing because I had cheered the old lady up.
Me.
I cheered someone up.
I told her that her husband would always be in her heart and I wished her a Happy New Year. Through that experience, I had made a new face.
I wipe my face from the tears and I let out a watery smile.
I put on a winter coat, and contemplate wearing gloves but discard the idea at the last minute and stuff the letter in my pocket.
I let out a shudder the moment I step outside my front door. Cold air stings my cheek and I pat my cheek trying to revive warmth back in it.
The white thick blanket of snow covers the trees, the roof of houses, and the ground.
Trees tick back and forth with gruesome winds picking up. I wrap my coat closer around my body walking to my car. My sneakers softly crunch in the snow, the snow burying my feet with every step I take. The smell of fresh, clean air fills my nose and I twirl around it ignoring the wind whipping my face.
I look towards the deep, gray sky watching as snowflakes fall to the ground in large numbers. I'm tempted to stay back and enjoy basking in the snow coming down in big heavy flakes but I have to do something before morning comes.
This was the first time it was falling this heavily. We were already in the middle of December and there were widespread predictions of this month being recorded as the least snowed month in Michigan but as I looked around me, I had my skepticism.
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I slowly ease the car into the parking lot and take my seat belt off. I don't know what I was expecting but the school looks like a haunted house bathed in snow. The whole parking lot is covered in snow, the time on my dashboard reads a half-past two and I shut my car door, lock it and start walking towards the school.
I take a turn at the side of the school, and my sneakers crunch in the snow as I approach the garden. The bench in front of the garden is covered in snow and I let out a shudder as a huge gust of wind trails past me sending chills through me.
A blast of snow follows after and I look up at the sky to see the snow coming out in numerous heavy flakes. My cheeks begin to sting and my palms refuse to warm them, my hands turn cold and my fingers rapidly become numb.
Vapour comes out from my lips at each shuddering breath, cold air filling every inch of my body.
I sit cross-legged on the ground staring at the garden. Cold begins to move its way through my jeans but I focus on the red, bold color of the rose which has tiny droplets of snowflakes on its petals Through the snow covering the garden soil, newly added mulch, pine straws, and hay cover the earth surrounding the roses. Behind the roses are lilies that have been staked and a hoop house encases the other flowers.
I let out a shudder as my fingers touch the petals of the roses
"Hey, love", I whisper
Cold, numb fingers wipe the tears slowly gliding down my face
"I know this might be weird speaking to you in front of a garden with a massive snow storm raging around me but...", shivers rack through my body and I snug my coat closer around my body before I continue
"I always feel close to you around roses. I know you hate them but you were a rose, and you still are".
A huge ghast of wind begins to blow, the rustling of leaves on trees becomes fierce and through it all, the snow continues its heavy downpour.
The wind whips across my face but I keep my eyes shut feeling her familiar touch, her smell.
I take out her letter
"You remember the letter you wrote to me", my eyes burn and I'm unable to stop the tears that streak down my face
"I couldn't bring myself to read it; I still can't but I'm willing to try it today. I'm sorry for ignoring it that long but I hope you help me"
That day in my room when Blaze was there, I had not read the letter. I tried to read it, I did but when I saw her handwriting, familiarity and reality hit me and I just stared at the first letter the whole time, I couldn't read it.
I unfold the paper, her writing coming into view again.
My hands fist the ends of the people and I start thinking if this is a great idea.
No, Lexi. You're doing this today.
Not tomorrow. Not later
Today
"No que importa lol dificil que sea,sigue empujando"
(No matter how difficult it is, keep pushing)
My eyes land on the first letter but this time it doesn't stay there, it moves as I begin to read out loud.
Hey love,
I picked up this pen several times and made several attempts to come up with something that will justify everything. I even decided not to write at all but my conscience wouldn't stop bugging me.
I feel angry with myself for saying this but you know I can never lie to you; I don't know if I'll be able to make it past today or tomorrow.
But even if all words decide to fail me and my mind refuses to help me out, there are three words that I'll never stop saying – I am sorry.
Even if it doesn't mean a lot, I want you to know I am sorry.
I am sorry for not fighting.
I know you have a lot of questions like why I did what I did, what made me do it, and just why?.
To be honest, I don't know myself.
I guess when you are a fighter for so long, you don't expect vulnerability but when you find out you do have it and it hits you, it breaks you in ways you never imagined it could.
I guess I wasn't a good fighter like I thought I was. And I decided to punish myself for failing to be a good fighter.
I know it sounds stupid but...
Not all questions have answers
What made me vulnerable is still out there. My vulnerability is a two-faced dick and I'm sorry for not going into details but the evidence, I once told you motivates me to move forward as my vulnerability did us.
I'm sorry for doing this love but sometimes, some things just can't be fixed.
I'll miss you but know I'll always be there. I'll be there when you get a better boyfriend, when you meet new people and when you realize you're a better fighter than me and you're worth more than you think. I'll always be here cheering you on.
Think of me as your guardian angel who's causing menace up here.
I love you, L
Your better half,
R.
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A/N: Don't tell me, I'm the only one crying or at least tearing up.
So that was Rose guys,
Confident, sweet, caring Rose.
I know you all want to know what happened to Rose; I also do but we'll have to wait to know why she did what she did.
Or maybe like she said, not all questions have answers
Who knows?
As usual, if you liked this chapter
I hope you do
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