Beautiful Rose (Beautiful Rose 1)

“I mean, who leaves pills lying around when they have small children? Isn’t that the first rule of child safety? Did you leave the poisons out too?”

“When I walked in, you were holding the bottle. Eve was lying on the floor next to you. She looked like she was sleeping,” Mom said softly.

“You think I found them and gave them to her? Is that it? If it wasn't for me, she’d still be here. That's what you think, right? You take no blame whatsoever.”

“Of course I blamed myself, Rose! I had a problem back then. Forgetting to put those pills away…I blame myself every day for Eve’s death.” She stopped, her sad eyes sweeping over me. “After she died, you were taken into foster care. You were away from us for nearly two months. Child Protective Services led an investigation to see if any criminal charges should be laid…against me. The end decision was that the loss of my daughter was something I’d punish myself for more than anyone else could.”

“So you faced no ramifications?” I asked in disbelief.

“I lost my daughter.” Her voice broke. “And I had to complete an addiction program to avoid charges. It was only then they allowed us to have you back.”

“Foster care? Why…why can’t I remember any of this? Why wasn’t I told earlier?” I was repeating myself, but I needed answers. Foster care? My sister dying? Surely something that traumatic I would remember.

“They told me it was best not to tell you until you remembered things for yourself. Then you never did. It became like it never happened. Only, when you started trying to…when your attempts started, I couldn’t bare losing another child. It was easier to push you away. You’ve no idea what it was like for me, having to bury my baby,” she sobbed.

She never understand how much I craved her love and attention. It was easier for her to shut off than to support me when I needed it most. Even now, this was about her. How she feels. What she lost. This had been my mother for the last seventeen years.

“Did it ever occur to you that my attempts might somehow be related to Eve’s death? Was that such a huge thing to link?”

“Stop it, Rose. For god's sake, stop being so selfish. It's always been about you. You and your goddamn struggle to live. I'm sick of it. I got sick of it a long time ago.

“I think about Eve every day. I wonder what she would be like, today, if she were alive. And then I think about why she isn't here, and what I could've done to prevent it. And then, there is you. You're so determined to rid yourself of this world, yet Eve never really had a chance to live in it. How is that fair?” she snapped.

“Because of you,” I said softly. “I was a god dammed child, mother. You were an adult.”

Silence. There was always silence when I needed her most.

“I'm sorry Rose; I don't know what you want from me. I don't know what to tell you,” Mom said.

I shoved the papers into the folder and pushed my chair back. As I stood up, I looked at her. For once I felt sorry for her. I pitied her and her attitude. She'd not only lost Eve seventeen years ago—she’d lost me, too. I stormed toward the front door, well aware that Mom hadn’t moved from her seat.

Outside I took a deep breath, desperate to fill my lungs with the cool fresh air that surrounded me. I didn't know if I felt better or worse. I got into my car and made my way off the property. I

felt weird. I'd never felt so free.

Or alone.

And that scared the hell out of me.

#

Back home, alone yet again. I paced the apartment, trying to relieve some of the anxiety I was feeling. I was not in good shape. If I was smart I would’ve called someone. But who? The only person I really wanted there was Jack.

I stripped out of my clothes and ran the shower. As I stepped under the hot steaming stream of water, I tried to think about the positives in my life, which kind of left me feeling emptier. To be honest, there weren't that many of them. Apart from Darcy I had no real friends, no future and no family. I was beginning to think my mother was right. I was so desperate to end this life, while thousands of people who wanted to live, died—and for no reason.

Like Belle and Eve.

I wrapped my bathrobe around me, not bothering to dry myself. My damp hair fell loosely around my face as droplets of water slid down the strands and splashed onto the tiles.

I walked into the bedroom and curled up on the bed. I called Darcy. No answer. Then I called Alex. It rang out, and then did it again the next three times.

I slid my finger along the screen until I came upon Jack's number. My fingers shook as they hovered over the entry. One press. That's all I needed to do. One press, and I could hear his voice. Even if he didn't answer, I'd still get to hear him on voicemail.

My whole body was trembling, now, shaking uncontrollably. I felt sick, like I was going to throw up. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I reached inside my nightstand drawer until my fingers touched the cold metal of the razor blade. I didn't know what was going through my head. All I knew was I wanted the pain to end. And, for once in my life, I wanted to get something right.

I held the razor delicately between my thumb and middle finger. The sharp edge glistened in the light from the lamp. I swallowed, hard, as I brought the edge of the blade down onto the thin layer of skin that covered my left wrist.

I ran the blade along next to the raised scar that was already there. I was with it enough to know that cutting the existing scar would be too hard.