[Flashback] Blood Drops on Rose Petals [Private]

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Year 500, Early Summer

Amorette la Rose-Noire was not always known by that name, for in the year of 500 she was a simple girl that belonged to a simple family. The Ash family. Her name then was Rose. Rose Ash. Her family was a simple human family that lived outside of Sylira and lived a rough life as farmers. Her parents were Agatha and Harold and together they produced a total of fourteen children, though in year 500 only six children were left alive: Rose’s eldest brother Keating, elder sister Violet, Rose and her identical twin sister Lily, younger sister Daisy, and the youngest child and son, Heath.

Life had been hard on the family with everyday life a struggle just to survive. Their farm was small but hard to work and the threat of those who wished them harm was always a risk. Not to mention famine. The Ashes knew loss for Dira had taken away eight of the children, some who Rose had never even known. Everyone had their duties and all had to work hard. And Rose hated it.

Rose’s duties almost typically included minding for and looking after Heath, who was only a year and a season old. Rose hated this job. The baby was always crying, always spitting up on her, and always needed changing. It was a disgusting filthy creature in her dark eyes and she was determined to never have any of these leeches herself. Disgusting child; whenever she could, she would abandon the child.

Rose really disliked her family and her life. It was boring, drab, and miserable. It was dirty and foul. It was beneath her. She was not content to struggle through life like this to eventually become some farmer’s wife and produce child after child just to bury them. No. She was meant for something more grand and better than that. She was meant to live and she would kill her way there if she had to.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Keating, her eldest brother, and Rose had a very curious relationship or, in other words, Keating had a perverse attraction towards his sister. Rose knew this very well. She would see the way he bent to look back at her, the way he lapsed into longing stares in her direction, and the way his touch lingered a little bit longer and heavier than normal for siblings. This did not bother Rose, however, and no one else seemed to notice it. But it had its advantages.

Keating was an attractive young man twenty-one years old; he had dark curly hair and the dark eyes that all in the Ash family were possessed of. He was tall, standing just over six feet in height and toned from a life of hard work. Many would call him attractive and that coupled with his work ethic made Keating a very eligible bachelor. He had no eyes for any other woman other than his sister Rose, who was sixteen at the time.

The passionate love Keating felt for his sister burned in his chest but he was too afraid to act upon it. Too afraid to take her into his arms and kiss her passionately. Keating did not know how she would respond but he was certain of how his father would. It would be his death or at the very least, it would be the last time he ever saw his family. To touch a sister in such a way was not possible. Not allowed. It was wrong but he could not stop the fantasy.

So he did favors for his sister. Helped her with her chores when he could, looked after her, protected her. Anything that Rose wanted and was in his power to get, Keating gave to his sister. And the power that young Rose had over Keating was not lost on her. She was quite well aware of how twisted around her finger he was.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Heath had the bad habit that some children had to just cry and cry and cry with no end in sight. It was that screeching, wailing cry that was so painful to the ears. On a normal person, it pulled horrendously on the heartstrings, but Rose was not a normal person. For her it was it was just a painfully annoying sound that could not be stopped. She fed him. Held him. Coddled him! Nothing worked, though it was perhaps that her embrace was as cold as if she were minding a wart-covered toad. She felt no love for this pathetic wailing creature.

Today, though, was different. She was already frazzled from a poor night’s sleep taking care of Heath and then spending her morning cleaning and mending clothes. The work was endless and then to have this wailing to deal with. She carried Heath, rocking him on her girlish hip cooing desperately. She rocked him back and forth and began to plead. Her dark eyes were red from lack of sleep.

This was death.

The boy would not calm down and Rose was just about at her wits end. She walked slowly across the room and laid him in his crib and stared at him. He only screamed louder now that he was not being held and she closed her eyes, running her pale fingers through her hair as she thought. Or tired to think! It was impossible to even hear one’s own thoughts with such racket!

Clasping the edges of the crib with her hands so hard that her knuckles turned a deathly white, Rose began to shake the crib vigorously, “Why will you not be quiet? Why will you not stop crying? If you do not stop right now I swear…” She fell silent and grew still, eyes opened wide as a sudden thought dawned upon her. It was as if for a moment she could not hear her brother’s bloodcurdling wails. But only for a second. She smiled cruelly down at her brother, her darks eyes burning malignantly. “If you do not silence this instance I will silent you myself and send you on your way to Dira.”

Still the baby did not stop its screaming for he certainly did not understand what Rose meant. As silent as a wraith, and true to her word, Rose placed a pale hand over the mouth and nose of baby Heath, muffling his cries.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Heath’s screams became fainter and more muffled, the thrashing of his arms less fierce, slowing until they quieted completely. The child was completely and utterly still but Rose continued to press her hand harshly over his face. Her breathing was quick and excited; her heart was racing, threatening to beat out of her chest. But she was not afraid or horrified. She was entirely exhilarated and entranced. Nothing fascinated her as much as the dying struggle of her brother.

Finally, she removed her pale fingers from his equally pale face, all the blood having left it long ago. His lips were tinged an awful shade of blue, his eyes closed without the slightest hint of flutter. What Kihala had given to Heath just over a year ago, Rose had mercilessly taken from him and had handed over to Dira. She was not sad; no tears sparkled tragically in her eyes. In fact, she struggled to keep herself from laughing at the ease of it. Why had she not thought of it earlier?

The cries were finally over! The war had been won!

Or had it? The rush of excitement from his little death was beginningt o fade and her mind was beginning to work. She had to make this not seem like it was her fault; she had to make it seem like an accident. Babies died all the time, and who knew that better than her own family? She paced back and forth in the room, her fingers, the same that had just suffocated the life out of Heath, worked the knots and tangles out of her hair as she thought.

Turning slowly on her heel, Rose returned to the crib and delicately and gingerly lifted Heath out of the crib with the apparent love and affection of a mother. She held his corpse, which was still warm, in her arms and rocked it lovingly. Singing softly under her breathe to him she crossed the room and began to dress him freshly for bed. “Finally you have grown quiet, little Heath. Praise be to the gods.” Her blasphemy was not lost on her and she almost choked trying to suppress her laughter.

Then with all the love she could muster, she laid to rest little Heath in his bed; his body was quickly growing cold and stiff so Rose began to quicken her pace. Maternally, she wrapped him beneath the blanket and tucked beside him a rough-hewn fabric toy that their mother had given to him as a babe. No detail was left unnoticed. Once the dead babe appeared to be comfortable, despite his eerily blue lips, Rose left the room.

Now to wait before she acted. She went out into the garden, bending a knee to pull some weeds from among the plants.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Rose was distracted as she pulled weeds from the garden, often missing some as she worked her ways through the rows. Her mind was not there. The thrashing of Heath’s arms, the muffled, dimming cries, and the memory of the blue lips were burned onto her brain. The reality of her actions was beginning to dawn on her. Many things had taken her siblings: illness, hunger, and tragic accidents. Never, though, had a life in her family ever been forcibly taken. She was the first.

While she did not regret it, and the entire situation was still entertaining for her, Rose could not helped but be surprised at herself. Sure, she had killed animals before; she had drowned kittens in the stream and beaten snakes to bloody pulps with a shovel. That was life on a farm. And always was the lingering thrill, the excitement about the kill. The addicting desire to do it again; to hold the kitten under the water longer or to hit the snake, let it try to flee for a bit before smacking it again. Giving false hope before dashing it.

Never, though, had she killed another human, let alone her baby brother. Her shoulders shivered. It had definitely been impulsive but there was no denying that she had enjoyed it. That power she had had over him; it had been her decision if he lived or died and he had been powerless to stop her. She held her hands before her face and studied them with her blackened eyes. These hands had taken life.

Rose knew without thinking what to do about the dead baby. Babies died sometimes, randomly. It had happened to a sister of hers years ago. The girl had just died one night with no sign of anything wrong with it. Her lips had been as blue as Heath’s had been. If she played it right, no one would even know or suspect. The tragedy of the even would serve even better to protect her.

Walking back into the baby’s room as if she had expected nothing to be wrong, Rose lovingly walked over to the crib and peered over the side. As expected, her brother lay there, quite definitely dead. His lips were blue and his face looked cold and stiff, there was no rise and fall in his chest. Rose screamed, a loud, piercing scream full of lament and horror. She let her legs go out and threw herself onto the floor, stilling screaming and crying out for help.

She buried her face in the floor and screamed, cried, and wailed though trying to hide the corners of her mouth from turning up. She could hear footsteps as members of her family came running.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

True to his heart and character, Keating was the first to arrive in the room, rushing in, his face was white as a ghost. He had no idea what was wrong but he knew the owner of the scream and felt each cry deeply within his bones, causing them to ache with emotion almost too heavy to bear. He was on the second floor of the house doing some project or another but he went flying down the stairs so fast he was like water breaking from a dam, seeping down the steps, flowing around corners and finally wrapping himself around the collapsed Rose.

Without thinking, Keating grabbed his sister and pulled her into his arms, his matching dark eyes searching his face. Lips met unexpectedly and a kiss was exchanged, one that was not meant to ever be exchanged between siblings before they both pulled back rather shocked, though Rose buried her face into his neck, sobbing uncontrollably though no tears leaked from her eyes. He held her tightly, confused about what was happening and not sure what to do. Rose, though, fought a smile in his shoulder. At that moment they both knew one thing, that he was irreversibly and incurably hers.

Her wails continued but he only stroked her hair, his mind was far from infantile Heath, who lay soundlessly in the crib still. “Oh Keating… Keating! May the gods have mercy, we have lost another!” And she screamed again. Keating pulled her shoulders, lifting her off him and stared at her, not at all understanding what she meant with his mind still locked on the kiss.

An older woman came bearing in, the only other person at home that day. Her name was Agatha, the mother of Keating and Rose as well as little dead Heath. She stood stock still in the frame of the door, messy strands of black and grey streaked her face, having come lose from the bun at the base of her neck. She seemed to know and understand without saying a word but Rose turned her face to her mother and cried again, her cries weaker now and she had managed to bring a few tears to her eyes. “M-m-mother… he is dead!”

Still not issuing a sound, Agatha crossed the room and lifted the dead baby from the crib, holding it to her breast. While her face was blank and white, frozen without expression and she did not cry at all her eyes were full of sorrow only a mother could know. A pain that had clearly had rubbed the fabric of her being thin. She barely was able to whisper, “My poor baby,” before slipping to the floor, rocking the baby to her chest.

It was all that Rose could do to turn her face back into the shocked shoulder of her brother, biting it in apparent angst though really she was trying to suppress the urge to laugh. The pain in her mother’s face, the upheaval this small incident would have on her family, and that she had taken a life because the baby was crying without an end in sight all seemed so comical. So entertaining.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

A few weeks had passed since the death of little Heath and all had come to terms with it. It was unknown the exact reasons why to them, but all understood that sometimes Dira called the souls of infants back to her without reason. Such was the fate of Heath and the Ash family was down another child. A fate all of them were too familiar with. No one even thought to blame Rose for what happened.

But despite whatever tragedy happens, life keeps moving on and the chores still needed to be done if all of them wanted to avoid Heath’s pathetic fate. Sorrow and loss must be born like an extra weight upon the shoulders as the Ash family worked their fields. There was no time for stopping to grieve, though Rose grieved internally not at all. She was bored with the memory already. He had cried, annoyed her and she stopped it. Perhaps with a finality that was a bit too severe, she smiled to herself, but she had stopped it.

On this day she held a basket woven of coarse straw, picking small, sickly tomatoes from wispy looking plants. She hated this basket, it scratched the exposed flesh of her arms, causing her to have to itch and scratch at the irritation. This was not her basket. Not at all. Her basket was one woven of softer reeds, a basket that was slightly smaller than this monstrosity. Well, technically it was not her basket but it was well known in the family that it was the basket that she used. But her sister Lily had taken it. Rose made no attempt to hide her anger.

Rose was possessive and hated sharing. Abhorred it! Even if the thing in question was not technically hers, she hated it more than anything. She wanted things and she wanted them to be hers alone. She glared across the vegetable patch at Lily.

Lily. Her identical twin sister. They had the exact same long, relatively straight hair that was as black as black came and they both had to fight the same knots and tangles every day. Same coal-black eyes and same striking brows. Same frame and even the same style of shift cut from the same fabric made by the same mother. It made her so sick that she could spit.

Catching up to her sister, she called out to her. “Your hair looks atrocious today, Lily. Did you even try to make sense of that rat’s nest you call hair? How dare you defile my looks!” Lily did not even turn around to face her sister, possessing a sweeter demeanor and gentler personality.

“Please try to be less spiteful, sister.” Lily barely whispered her response. She was tired and did not want to pick a fight with her sister. “And these are our looks, best you remember that. Actually,” She turned to smile sweetly at her sister, “I was born first so these would be my looks if anything but I am more than happy to share them with you.” To Lily this was not an insult but Rose’s face only grew darker and she quickly turned around and began picking tomatoes again. She plucked so hard that great chucks of plant came with each red fruit. She was so angry she could spit.

They were her looks. Why did she have to share them? And with a creature as homely and stupid as Lily of all people! Her eyes scanned the dirt and then, shocking even herself, in one fluid motion she picked up a small, smooth stone and threw it at her sister. It struck Lily on the head with a light thud. Slowly, Lily raised her hand to the offended spot, turning slowly.

“You know Rose, you really are a monster sometimes.” Tears brimmed on her dark eyes, the impact had stung in more ways than one.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Eyes squinted in anger as the comment washed over Rose. If only pebbles could pierce skulls! Anger was seething and she turned quickly to hide it from her twin. Anger was never a pretty emotion on anyone and she exposing it would be like letting her sister win. And if she hated anything more than sharing it was losing! Or not getting her way, perhaps…

She began once more to pluck tomatoes from their vines harshly once more for a moment before grabbing her basket and storming into her house. She could not stand being around her sister for a moment longer. What a waste of her face! How dare it grace a person as lowly as Lily or grace anyone besides herself. She was teaming with anger and set the tomatoes down roughly in the kitchen and gripped the edge of the table, drumming her fingers harshly upon the surface.

Click, tap, click, tap…

She chewed on her lip, pondering and thinking what to do. Her anger needed to be released and it needed something to be directed towards. But what? Lily was what had caused her anger. Stupid Lily and the annoying fact that they had to share a body and face. Too similar, much too similar! For sixteen years Rose had shared a face with that pathetic girl and it had never been truly hers. Rose could just not accept that.

There were footsteps behind Rose but she did not have to turn around to know who belonged to; they made the same creaks on the floorboards that hers did, bearing the same weight after all. It was Lily. Rose tapped her fingers harder on the wood; if her fingers had been made of steel there would have been holes in the table by now. Not that she was not trying anyways.

She felt a hand lightly placed upon her shoulder but she looked in the opposite direction, a sigh issuing from her lips. Lily spoke, “Rose. I hate when we fight. We should be closer than anyone else in the family and it seems that we are the farthest apart. I love you….” Her voice trailed off lightly, almost mournfully. Rose, having her face turned from Lily, quirked an eyebrow with a light smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

She turned toward her sister, quickly pulling her into an embrace and whispering into her ear. “I am sorry too Lily. I think that I just get angry because I see you and I see myself yet I know nothing about you. It is like a stranger in my mirror and it pains my heart.” She released her sister and stepped back, staring into her eyes, which were also Rose’s eyes. “I have a few more chores to do, but perhaps we could take a stroll this evening and just talk?”

Lily blinked in surprise but smiled warmly and genuinely. “Of course! I would love that greatly!” Then they hugged and Lily left, leaving Rose to smile thoughtfully, chewing on her fingernail. Her mind whirled with thoughts. What to do, what to do…

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Later that evening, Rose met Lily at the front door, both dressed simply to ward off the heat of summer. As a gesture of kindness, Rose offered her arm and Lily linked it with her own gratefully, a warm smile dancing on her face. “Oh Rose, I am so excited to do this! It has been too long since the two of us spoke heart to heart.” Rose smiled but inwardly she was trying to swallow the bile that was threatening to erupt from her. It had been awhile for a reason.

The two set on the path, being mindful to not drift too far from the homestead for nowhere out here was safe. Dangers lurked everywhere especially for two girls just barely sixteen in age. Lily did not seem to mind though, so happy she was to have her twin to speak with. Rose was amazed with how readily she spoke and opened her heart. Like a broke vase, secrets, hopes, dreams, and stories of loves poured out of Lily.

To be honest, Rose hardly listened. Why would she care that her sister had fallen in love with a boy who lived a few miles away on a different farm? It only angered her more! How could her sister—her twin!—believe in love? How foolish and blinded was she? Rose’s anger at having to share looks was boiling into something more deep.

Finally, Rose’s silence, which was only broken by occasional murmurs acknowledging that she was indeed was listening to her sister, became too much for Lily to bear. She stopped in her tracks and held Rose’s forearms clasped in her pale arms. “Why are you so silent Rose? You said you wished to speak openly with me but you have said hardly a word! What is it?”

Rose looked mournfully at her sister for a moment, her eyes opened wide and full of all the sorrow she could muster from her body. “I lied to you Lily, I asked you to walk with me for a different reason. A much more grave reason.” Lily said not a word but looked surprised and a little bit fearful as well. “Perhaps you had better sit down for this news might be hard for you to bear standing.” Rose sat first, and patted the earth next to her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Lily sat though she still did not say anything. Waiting…

“I have bad news and I do not really know how to say it so I guess I should just up and say it.” She tried to smile but let it fade quickly and leaned in to hold her sister. “This breaks my heart to say, but it needs to be said. You need to leave our home. Leave and never come back!” Rose gave a soft cry and turned her head to the side as if this was too much for her to handle. “Oh Lily, it breaks my heart that I am the one to tell you this!”

Lily was clearly shocked because for a long time she said nothing but just sat there with Rose’s arms around her, her mouth drooping open like an invalid. Her mouth began to move as if she were trying to speak but no words came out. No words came to her. “…What?” She was in shock, she did not understand.

Rose, with her face turned away, scowled. Why could she not be a good little fool and take it at that and leave. Sighing, as if she were deeply sad about the news she were about to deliver her, “Lily,” she clasped their hands together and looked as lovingly as she could into the girl’s eyes, “Mother and father blame you for what happened to Heath. They think… they think that if you had been more responsible and that perhaps Heath would not have died. They think that Dira did not take him but that you…” She looked down at the ground, trying to muster tears, forcing her voice to break. “They think you sent him to her!”

Lily pulled away, sickened. Rose only began to sob as if the thought were too much for her. “And I heard father saying he may kill you. So you must leave! You must! For your safety.” Rose grabbed Lily’s shoulders, imploring her with her eyes. This was for her safety, for Lily’s. The thought almost made her laugh, but she fought for her straight face.

Lily’s face was white. “No.. no… that cannot… cannot be!” And then she got up and ran back towards home!

For the love of Lhex! Rose got up and began to run after her.

[Amorette la Rose-Noire]

Lily was in shock, utterly caught off guard so her gait was not as quick or as sure as it normally was, which was good for Rose. But she had gotten a head start and was quickly trying to get home. Lily’s sweet mind did not suspect Rose of anything so she did not realize the danger she put Rose in if she were to return home. Simply put, Lily’s sweet nature forced her to go home and try to reconcile with her parents and take any blow they felt she deserved.

Rose had completely underestimated Lily’s nature! How different the two were!

Running as fast and as hard as she could, Rose began to close the gap between them and called out ahead of her, “Lily! Wait! What are you doing? You cannot go back home! Lily!” Rose was starting to get a bit desperate as Lily was not even turning around to speak to her. Clasped at her waist was a very thin dagger, a stiletto blade gifted to her from her grandmother. Her light fingers danced around the hilt.

Just before Rose was about to close the distance completely, Lily stopped. She stood stock still in the center of the road and Rose, not able to reduce her speed in time, came crashing into her. Lily did not make a sound, her face was oddly blank. “How could they think that I would do that Rose? I loved him! Loved him!” She was pleading with Rose with every core in her being, “You believe me, don’t you Rose? You know it was not me, right?” Her eyes were full of tears.

Of course Rose knew! But she tried to keep her face as grief stricken as possible. Rose spoke slowly, as if each word pained her, “I want to believe you Lily, I really do, but I am not sure I can! My heart aches for him, you know! Little Heath!” She wailed, “But I love you and I want you to be safe. You must not return home, you must go.” Lily had better not do anything stupid. Believe the lies!

But it seemed that believing them was still not the issue. Tears poured from Lily’s eyes in hot streams, “Then… then I must go speak to them before I leave. I must…” She turned on her heel slowly and began as if she were going to walk away.

“No!” Rose shrieked and dove at her sister, tackling her to the ground. Before either of them completely realized what happened, Rose had pulled her stiletto blade from her side and drove it deeply into the side of Lily’s neck. The girl did not stand a chance, she could not even scream as the blood poured from her body, staining both twins in red. Rose sat upon the back of Lily, whose face was in the dirt as she gurgled in pain wordlessly.

As if in a trance Rose pulled the dagger out and stabbed Lily again in the back and then again and again. She could hardly stop herself. It did not take long for the girl to die, her blood having gone to flood the earth; both bodies were pale and stained with red. Lots of red. Red, red, red everywhere. Rose Pulled the blade out for the last time, slowly, and stared at it.

And she smiled. Once again, she had taken a life! That power, that rush! And she had been fair, had she not? Lily would just not listen to reason. She, like Heath, had picked her own fate! She was breathing hard and fast as if she had run a marathon, energy and excitement pumped through her veins!

Rose had won! No one else possessed her looks anymore!