Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
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Mature Content. Check the tags.
We have read too much poetry. I fear we have ruined love with words. . . .
CHAPTER - 3
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"I want to kill the person who did this and their family," Marie whispered to me while petting Minnie's head. Minnie purred, stretching her hinder legs. Marie was a tiny grey British shorthair whose previous owner had not been caring or a decent person. Her eyes were nothing but two healed wounds.
I set my head against Marie's shoulder, sighing as I looked down at Minnie, who was stretched on her favorite Disney blanket. "I want to kill what they love."
Mrie laughed gently, her dark fingers now scratching Minnie's belly as the kitten purred again. "I wish we'll find someone who'll adopt her, soon. She doesn't deserve to live in a cage her whole life."
Minnie stood and clumsily walked towards us. My heart hurt watching her. I gently picked her up and set her down in the tiny gap between Marie and me. She curled into a ball, probably ready to sleep again. Kittens slept a lot. When I got my first kitten, I thought something was wrong with her until my dad and I researched almost the whole night so that I could take care of her properly.
That was when I was ten.
"It is your birthday in half an hour," Marie said after a while of us just sitting there, looking at the various animals in the cages. "I have a gift for you." She grinned at me. Everything about Marie was ridiculously gentle and optimistic. The way she smiled her hugs, her eyes. She stood up while gathering her long braids in her hands, securing them with a green scrunchie. She walked away, keeping her steps light.
We didn't need to stay this long here. We just liked spending time here and with each other. Marie had been my best friend since sixth grade. She had been a constant in my life since the day she showed up.
She walked back in, a grin still on her back and her hands holding a bag behind her back. "I might have gone overboard but...well, you don't turn twenty-two every day. Please don't yell about the price."
"I will make no such promise."
She rolled her eyes while shaking her head and handed me the bag. "If you yell, Minnie will wake up."
I opened the bag and pulled the dress out.
"So?!" She almost jumped in excitement. "What do you think?"
The dress was maroon with all the stitching done with silver thread. It had a built-in corset and sleeves which covered only the upper arms and dropped from the shoulders delicately. The skirt was nothing but random layers, giving it a semi-abstract look.
I looked at her. "How much-"
"Don't!" She said. "Please, don't. It will look beautiful on you. You love maroon, and this dress just screams Dahlia."
I bit into my tongue to refrain from asking again. It looked expensive and it made me feel anxious when people spent money on me. If there was one thing my parents had drilled into my head, it was that if you accept things for free, you pay for them sooner or later and rarely with money.
