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You were sitting alone on that cold bench when I approached you. You were frightened but you did not run. Why? Didn't you know what was going to happen to you? No, you just stayed like a flower in dirt waiting to get picked. And you were the one I wanted to pick.
I asked your name, you hesitantly said "Rose." I liked that name. Rose. It fit perfectly because you, my darling, were precious and innocent like a flower.
You asked nervousley, "What do you want? You want money. I'll give you some." I chuckled lightly. You were such a funny girl. You scooted away from me as I sat down on that bench, but still, you didn't run. It was like you were stuck on that bench in glue.
"I only want you," I said and grabbed you. You screamed, kicked, and punched but you were no match for me. "Goodnight my Flower," I whispered as I put the cloth over you mouth and nose, and watched you slowly fall into sleep. . . .
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