Her rose blanket, tarnished and well-loved, wasn't merely a tool to shield her from the shiversome winter nights. It was more than that. It held especially close to her heart, giving such her a sense of comfort, that not even you and I are familiar with.
Catherine held a secret about this particular blanket. Simply a creamy beige microfibre blanket, yet velvety to the touch. Outstandingly pink roses and forest green leaves bounded and bunched together, heavily embellishing it's surface. But no, it wasn't the appearance that made this blanket so sacred.
Catherine snuggled into its warmth and threw it over her head. She had made herself a soft and small cavern.
'Blood of red, thorn of green, let your shape be truly seen,' She would whisper.
Then, as if in an instant, a being would emerge in front of her eyes. It's emerald eyes flashed like gems and twinkled like a stretch of stars. Brilliant red hair, soft as swirled cotton. Hands stained forest green. It was a boy, a human, just like she was. Just... different. But, she loved him all the same.
Catherine threw off the blanket excitedly.
'It's nice to see you once again, you know. It's been a while.'
'Indeed,' Rose blushed.
He was so elegant and graceful when he spoke. His name was feminine, and he was incredibly shy about it. But to Catherine, it didn't seem to matter. It was almost as if she lost all sense of rationality around Rose, and it's void would fill up with irresistibility and passion for him. It made her feel cosy inside, like a hot chocolate; steaming, sweet brown liquid flowing across her tongue and down her throat, finding its way into her chest and filling it with it's warmth. That's what it felt like.
She cuddled close to him, loosely enveloping him into a hug.
'I've missed you terribly, Rose. Things have been difficult without you.' She said.
It was true, Catherine was certainly experiencing hardship. A raging war she simply couldn't win. It felt as if she were locked in a dark room, numbed of emotion. She didn't feel sad, she just felt... lost.
l o s t .
Blue eyes shone and glistened like moonlight reflections on the sea's boundless surface.
Rose watched her with pity. He couldn't understand why such pretty eyes were so down. His attention drew from her eyes, and traced down to her sleeves. The fabric has shifted slightly, and Rose could see a single white line drawn across Catherine's arm. Curious, reached and pulled them down to her elbows. To his surprise, he found white and red haphazard lines engraved into her skin, like brush strokes. He paused, and tenderly lifted her chin.
'What's this?' Rose asked gently, squeezing her hand.
Catherine responded with a pitied sniff.
'Who did this?'
'I did.'
'Why, Catherine?'
Rose simply couldn't understand why those lines were etched across her forearms. It was a genuine child-like innocence, he didn't know.
'Cuts.' Catherine choked. Her stomach dropped regretfully. She shouldn't have told him that. What if he wouldn't like her anymore?
'What are they?'
Catherine was taken aback by this.
'Don't you know?'
Rose shook his head rapidly.
'Well...' How was she going to put this?
'Sometimes when I feel really sad, the feelings can be really hard to bear. So this is how I handle it. I cut my arms. Some people say it's not the best thing to do, but I guess it alleviates the pain a little.'
Catherine tried her best to put it as simply as possible, as Rose wasn't really fond of big words, and had a small vocabulary capacity. Nevertheless, Rose intently listened to her words.
'Do you cut with rose thorns?' Rose asked worriedly.
'No, Rose, I don't. ' Catherine smiled. 'I use sharp blades, so that they don't hurt as much, I guess. But sometimes I get carried away, and they sting a lot.'
Rose cocked his head, making a thoughtful and animated expression.
'You know, I think the thorns are cutting you.' Rose whispered.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, not everyone in the world is a pretty rose. Some are spiky thorns, who are bad people. No matter how hard we try, they just keep insisting on being mean. They keep hurting you, and you're letting them get away with that! They're letting you feel miserable for no reason at all.' Rose explained.
'You shouldn't hurt yourself because others want to hurt you.'
Those words rung like chiming church bells in Catherine's ears. Rose was right. What was she doing?
She turned to Rose. He was simply smiling. She tackled him into an embrace, and then, a zealous kiss. Lips intertwined, fingers laced.
'Rose, thank you. So much.'
It was our rose blanket that evening.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
