Blood Red Roses

This was inspired by this song, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-fz_NM8flU , which I do not own. Hope you enjoy!

BLOOD RED ROSES

     A young girl stands in a ring of rose bushes, tiny shoulders trembling. Her long, black hair hangs like a curtain around her face, and hides her smoky green eyes from the surrounding garden. Bitter tears stream down her face and drip onto the soft Summer grass as she tries to stifle her small sobs. She holds out her left hand, watching the dark crimson blood ooze out of the cut at the base of her thumb. In her other hand, she holds a beautiful white rose, its petals stained a faint pink from when she had pricked herself on its thorns. A slight rustle in the bushes catches her attention, and she whips her head around in confusion, before hesitantly calling out a meek,

   "Hello?" As the bushes rustle again, the little girl slowly turns around, nervous at thought of who it might be. This was her big brother's private estate and garden; who would have the nerve to trespass here, of all places? Its size even intimidated her from time to time! After a few tense moments, a familiar figure emerges from the wall of rose bushes, which causes the young girl to gasp quietly, before she stammers out,

   "Bi-big brother? Wh-what are you doing here? I th-thought you were in your office today, like y-you always are!"

   "Oh? So I can't take a break to see my favorite sister?" The little girl laughs childishly, her pain forgotten, as she giggles out,

   "But I'm your only sister!" The older boy smiles indulgently, before saying the final phrase of the time-honored exchange.

    "Well, then it is a good thing that you're my favorite! Come on, come here." He kneels down to his little sister's height, before opening his arms wide. The young girl gladly rushes into his embrace with a joyful expression on her face

    When viewed together, in moments such as this, it easy to see that the two are related. The same black hair, lean build, and identical grey-green eyes. It is here, however, where the similarities end.  While the sister, who is the junior by sixteen years, is childish and naive about the ways of the world, the brother knows the cruelty of society all too well.

   A few days after his sister's birth, the boy's parents had died in a horrible car crash, leaving him and his infant sibling as orphans. Alone in the world, and with an extra mouth to feed, all he had left of his old life was a prototype of his father's invention, a special type of fertilizer that helped flowers to grow twice as fast as they usually do. After perfecting the new fertilizer with the last of his money, he had set to selling it on street corners and in small flower shops, hoping to earn at least a few dollars off of it. Surprisingly, it was a big hit, which prompted him to manufacture and sell as much of his new product as he could. This left him very little time to spend with his precious sister, but somehow the two managed. It had taken the elder brother years of hard labor before he was able to save up enough to buy a factory to help manufacture his father's invention, but the investment was worth it. It was on the back of that factory that he had built his fortune, which in turn, had allowed him to buy this sanctuary for him and his six-year-old sister.

     However, managing all that money was no small task, and it was eating up even more of his time, prompting him to work in his office for months on end, and leaving him with almost no free time. It was a rare day that he was even able to leave the mansion for a breath of fresh air without being confronted with some important issue or another.

   And it was those precious free days that his sister cherished most of all.

   "Big brother!" said sister chirped cheerfully, before pulling away from the hug. "Look what I picked for you!" With this remark, she holds out the white rose, which was now wilting slightly from the heat of her palm.

    "Oh, is this for me?" the older boy asks, pleasantly astonished at the gift, as simple as it was. The small girl nods happily, before thrusting the flower into her brother's hand. Gently, he holds it up, turning it this way and that to examine it from all angles. He smiles softly, mentally noting how well the new variation of his fertilizer had worked, before noticing a pink patch on one of the petals. Now slightly worried, he points to the spot, before asking his sister,

    "Hey, why is there a pink color on this rose? These breed is supposed to be white."

    "Ohhhh. Oh yeah! That's just some blood I got on it when I pricked myself on a thorn. Don't worry, okay big brother?" The young girl smiles, before presenting the small cut on her left hand. The dried blood, mixed with the dirt and grime on his sister's palm, brings a concerned frown to her brother's face.

    "Ouch! That looks like it hurt. What a brave girl you are to pick this for me, even after getting hurt like that. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." The older boy says, before sweeping his sister off her feet. She squeals gleefully as her big brother begins to move, covering the ground in long strides. It has been months since he had last had the time to hold her like this, but to her it feels like years. Despite his nearness, and the constant reassurance that what he is doing is for her own good, she misses the time they spent together, before everything got so complicated.

  She misses the way he used to tickle her chin when she was still unable to walk.

  She misses the way she could go to him any time she liked and watch him work.

  She misses her big brother...

  But she has a plan. If giving her brother one rose was enough to make him come and care for her, if one little scratch was enough to make him hug her the way he used to, imagine if...

~~~~~~~~~~

    The little girl stood outside her brother's locked door, a cheerful grin on her face. It had taken her hours, but she had done it. Once more, she reaches carefully out to knock, making sure not to drop her precious cargo. Withdrawing her arm, she goes back to rocking back and forth on her heels as her brother's footsteps pound across the floor as he goes to answer his door. Excitedly, she smiles as he opens his door, before shoving her gift into his face. Astonished, the older boy blinks as his vision is suddenly clouded by tens, no, hundreds of roses. Yellow, white, pink, they come in every hue imaginable, but the most common color flower, by far, are his favorite, the vivid, blood red ones. 

    Grasping them as firmly as he could manage, but still dropping a few unlucky blooms, he is amazed that whoever it was who gave these to him was able to carry them all... or not. Peering around the blossoms, he notices that in the hall, there is a trail of dropped posies and droplets of some strange dark red liqui- wait was that blood?!

   Shifting the flowers in his arms hurriedly, the older boy transfers his gaze from the hall to whoever it was who gave him the roses. When he sees who it is, he barely manages to stifle his yelp of surprise.

     Staring at him up with big, smoky green eyes is his little sister, but not the way he is used to seeing her. Her skin is covered in scrapes, scratches, and small lacerations of every kind. Vicious red line lines zig-zag across her legs, creating a horrid map of pain for all to see. Such lines also cut across her face, running over and under her nose, eyes, and cheeks. Her black hair, once silky and soft, is now matted with blood and grime. Her lovely yellow dress is in a similar condition, as it too is covered in the foul crimson fluid. The worst part, however, is her arms. 

     Vivid slashes coat his sister's arms in a mesh of scarlet and ruby. There are barely any patches of skin visible without that horrid red tint. Blood wells from every horrid slice, oozing from her small body and dripping down to hit the tile floor with a wet-sounding plop. Despite the blazing agony his poor sister must feel, however, upon her face is a radiant smile! She positively beams in delight as he looks down upon her in horror. 

           "Big brother, do you like my gift? It took me a really long time to pick them all, and it was hard, but I did it! I did it for you, big brother!" And in truth, it had been difficult for the young girl. At first, each prickle of pain had been agonizing, each jab of a thorn had brought tears to her eyes. It was slow going, but as the number of lacerations grew, so did the small girl's happiness. This was sure to make her brother pay attention to her again, she just knew it! And if this pain, this horrid, blazing pain was the price for the attention she so cherished, she welcomed each scratch gladly.

                Gingerly, the elder boy places the flowers down upon the floor and takes his little sister's hand. He can't stop the slight grimace that crosses his face at the feel of his sister's wet, warm palm touching his, but still he grasps it. Carefully, he leads her away to the nearest bathroom in order  to clean her up. Let someone else take care of the work for today, he didn't care. His little sister needed him, and with the state she was in, how could he deny her call?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          The little girl sits in her bedroom, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her arms, legs, torso, and hands are all wrapped in layer upon layer of bandages. Patches of red dotted the pristine, white bindings, but she doesn't care. To her, each drop of blood spilled is like a medal of honor. 

         Mindful of her wrappings, the young girl makes her way over to her bed before sitting down. Almost immediately, however, she springs right back up again, before removing the source of her sudden irritation from her back pocket. Holding it up to the light, the small girl smiles softly at the sight. In her hand, she clutches a single rose, obviously one of the stragglers whom she had dropped. 'It must have fallen into my pocket,' she muses silently, before gently bringing the flower to her finger. Carefully, she digs the pad of her finger into one of the rose's razor-sharp thorns.

            'How fitting,' she thinks to herself, before grinning in satisfaction as the all-too-familiar crimson liquid began to drip onto the sheets, 'that, out of all the roses that I could have picked up, it was my big brother's favorite.'

           Lovingly, she smiles at the source of all her pain and the answer to all her problems; for in her broken, bleeding hand, she holds a single, blood-red rose.