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.
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Hedeon texted the next morning.
Good morning, Dahlia.
I wiped the tears off my face, staring at the text. I had a rough morning. I hadn't slept a second.
There was another text. This one from Emilia.
I'm sorry about how sufferable I've been. Come to see me off today? I'd hate to not see you before leaving.
I looked at the date and sure enough, it was the day she was to leave.
I'll be there. I texted back, knowing better than to say no. I'd regret it if I did.
But going to my parents' house proved to be a mistake as soon as I parked my old car in the driveway.
Evan and Jenna, his wife, were standing in the proach with Emilia and my parents who were laughing with them. All the laughter ceased as soon as my presence was noticed.
My heart got heavy.
And then dad smiled at me. "Dahlia. You're late. I saved you some lemonade from this monster." He threw a playful look at Emilia and handed me a glass instantly. "It's good," he added, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
I didn't let myself be happy, even though my heart begged me to as I sipped the liquid. My dad may be nice to me, but then he'd remember all my failures and that arm around my shoulders would disappear for weeks. It had happened a lot of times.
But I always hoped. In the depths of my heart, where I kept everything I wanted to erase, I always hoped.
Evan and Jenna mostly ignored me except for the polite 'hi'. Which I returned with all the manners I could muster, which were not a lot.
Dad was to drive Emilia to the nearest airport. After about half an hour of him loading the million bags, console my crying mother, and give Emilia a million tricks about self defence which I knew would go on till she was out of his sight, Emilia and dad were settled in the car, ready to take off.
I leaned against a pillar, the glass which had been cold now warm because of the glaring sun.
I lifted a hand, the stones of my fingers glittering, and waved as Emilia did the same.
My mother cried into her hand. Jenna consoled her.
Evan paused beside me.
"You should console your mother."
"You should mind your business."
He grimaced. "You're cold as fuck, Dahlia. I don't understand it."
"You don't need to."
He was the last person I wanted to talk to. I hated how I knew which perfume he wore, where he had gotten the shirt he had on, why there was a scar on the side of his lips. I hated knowing these little things about him.
