I. Roses are Red

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Four hundred and sixty six years later from 1550, the 16th century.

Year: 2016

"Isabelle Rose! You are going to be late for school if you don't hurry!" Belle's father yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Sighing, Belle rolled her eyes as she threw her long flowing dark curled tresses up in a messy bun and grabbed her helmet.

"I'm coming! Keep your panties on!" She called back down to her dad with a frown on her delicate features.

Belle raced down the stairs in her ragged dark wash skinnies, printed band t-shirt she had gotten at a rock concert and socked feet, grabbing an apple as she flew past the kitchen isle. She stopped at the front door to put on her motorcycle boots, waiting for her dad to greet her with a good morning as he always does.

Her father tssk'd as he regarded her with crossed arms. "I hate how you insist on riding that motor bike when you have a perfectly nice car your I got you months ago for your seventeenth birthday." He complained. Her father was always worried that she would have a horrible wreck and lose a limb or much worse; die. But he himself couldn't very well complain as the motorcycle was also a gift from him. He used to idolize riding and with Belle being the tomboy out of his three girls, he lived vicariously through her.

Belle wedged her last boot on and slipped on her riding jacket, turning her blue eyes on him. "Dad. I'll be fine. It's not like I'm out there racing." She grabbed her helmet from the floor and slung her backpack over her shoulder, smirking as she ran out the front door before her dad could say anymore.

Fact is, Belle does race. But she would never tell her dad that. It would only lead to him taking away her precious baby. Her Busa. Her beloved. She knew of her fathers love for motorcycles which was why he never pushed the subject. Afterall, he was just trying to be the worried dad. 

Belle was his favorite even though they say parents shouldn't have favorite children. After her mother died during giving birth to Belle, her and her father have always been close. Her two other sisters were nothing like either of them. Beauty queen was a phrase to describe the greedy twins.

Shoving her helmet on, Belle hopped on her bike and started the engine, speeding out of the driveway just as she saw her dad come back outside through the mirror on her right to tell her something.

She needed to leave now though if she wanted to make it to school on time. Not that she actually minded.

Her dad, Pierce, had rushed outside to tell her of the storm that was headed their way as told by the weather alert on his phone. Belle would never make it to school before it hit, he thought. Couldn't She tell by the clouds that It was going to storm?

In a panic, he watched as Belle sped off and prayed that she made it on time. There was no telling how bad the storm would be! With Belle he always seemed to be a little overprotective.  She was his baby afterall.  The last piece of her mother, Rose, that he had left.

The air was cool today as Belle sped down the road. No cars in front of her which made her lean forward in excitement, her lip between her teeth as she accelerated. The motor was roaring, drowning out all other noises. This was the best drug. 

Riding.

Who needed drugs and alcohol when they could ride, She thought to herself.

She had been in such a hurry to leave the house that she never bothered to notice the grey clouds overhead with bellies filled, swelling with the water that demanded to rain down. It was a twenty minute drive to school! Why didn't her dad say anything?

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