11| roses

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WHEN SHE CAME TO, she was lying on a bed of roses. Her vision was bedazzled with stars as she looked around confusedly, unable to orientate where she was. What was the last thing that had happened? She remembered the monarch butterflies, but in her thoughts their wings kept being ripped to shreds. Her head was filled with fog as she tried to push herself up, not caring for how the thorns were digging in her hands. It wasn't like she felt it. For some reason, her whole body was numb.

Was this the garden? She tried to stand up, only succeeding at the third try. Her knees were bleeding from how often she fell back to the ground, blinking as she tried to make the world stop spinning. When it finally did somewhat, she started recognizing the roses around her, the ones below having been plucked to form a bed for her. How had she even slept on something so uncomfortable? How had she even slept at all?

"Where am I?" she said, but the words warped into something incoherent when she spoke, her tongue tangling in itself.

The sun above her started smiling with sharp teeth and even sharper heat, burning her as she started walking through the maze of roses. She couldn't piece together her memories of yesterday, her gaze absentmindedly focusing on the bloody footprints she was leaving behind, darkening each time she stepped into thorns again. Quietly she started humming a children's lullaby, one which her mother had sung to herself, each time she started dreaming while being awake again.

"Gentle love, come to me," she sung softly, the sound eery in the all-consuming silence," you'll meet me again underneath the willow tree."

No one replied and she kept walking, until she reached the house. Nathan wasn't anywhere in sight and she didn't call for him, even though she wanted to, more than anything. It was terrifying, being alone, but his finger on the trigger kept replaying in her mind, over and over. Even if it had been a dream, she didn't want to discover what she'd see if a bullet pierced through her skin. If it did, she hoped he would have the mercy to shoot one right through her head.

Tick, tick, tick. The grandfather clock in the living room quietly continued on, Helene passing by in a daze. She bumped against a picture which was lying on the table, still too unstable to walk straight, the glass shattering beneath her feet. Absentmindedly she took the picture out, paying no attention to the shards as she stepped through them.

A girl. She was colorful amidst a field of peonies, with a blue eye and purple bruises. Still, she was smiling, one tooth missing and eyes gentle like spring. Eyes which were the color of dusk, even though hers didn't seem haunted. Nathan's sister, she realized. He had kept the picture. Was it out of sentiment or was it because he knew she'd see it? Everything he was doing was to keep her by his side, she knew that and yet she couldn't get herself away from him.

They never had discovered what had happened to his sister. She didn't think he had killed her, but in the end, it didn't matter. The past wouldn't stop her fate from running it's course, whatever that might be. To be honest, she hadn't used to believe in any kind of divine entity, but she could practically see the thread of her life running out, tightening it's grip around her neck. Perhaps it was inevitable that she'd come face to face with it or perhaps it was the aftermath of whatever pills she had taken, but anything was possible right now. If she wanted to, she could fly. The line between reality and her dreams had become blurred for a long time now anyway.

The picture fell out of her hand as she continued on, straight towards the door. She didn't know if she wanted to escape, but what she did know was that the lack of any serotonin in her brain was starting to weigh heavy on her. If she didn't get out of a confined space soon enough, she'd start screaming. If she did, she might start screaming as well. Her thoughts turned dark, nothing blooming in the shadows as she breathed heavily. She was starting to feel light-headed.

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