Roses Are Dead, Violets Are Crying

Roses are dead, violets are crying
    Foster never liked going to his friends parties but he always got dragged along anyway. he preferred to stay at home. It was a huge, hollow house, always quiet and calm since it was usually just him. His mom died when he was little and his dad was either at work or passed out drunk on their rusty looking green couch. At least, he thinks it must have been green. You could barely tell through all the stains. Most of the furniture was like that. The paint on the walls peeled, shatters glass lay un cleaned in the kitchen. It was a horrid place to live but it was still home to Foster.

  It was time he got out of the house though, so Foster reluctantly went when his friends stampeded through the doors to bring him to the party.They all looked extremely similar, him and his boys. All tall with greased back hair, ripped jeans and rolled shirts. the difference between Foster and his friends was also very easy to spot though. while they jumped through the streets, breaking bottles over mailboxes or chasing  the neighbors cats like rabid dogs, Foster walked quietly. His shoulders slumped under his leather jacket, sunglasses hiding his sad eyes and keeping the smoke from his cigarette out of his face on windy nights like this.

  The party was loud as usual, people yelling and laughing, a stolen jukebox playing some band Foster had never heard before and lots of weird noises coming from the drunk kids in side. It was pathetic, and he couldn't wait to get back to his still, quite house. The parties always went the same too. Nothing new and exciting. He would find a couch or chair, drink a couple beers and just watch the crowd. People talked to him but it he only heard their voices. He would respond and not but he was distant.

  A girl came to sit next to him. She had bright red hair and big blue eyes that stared curiously at Foster. She was speaking to him like all the other girls did, exaggerating everything and twirling her hair as she scooted closer to him. He would nod, or say a word or two; it was all that he wanted. Her voice could have been any womans voice, they all seemed the same to him. Her soft pale hand met his and it brought him back to the moment. The contrast from his cold calloused fingers to her warm soft hand made him shiver. He looked at her freckled face and let her lead him out the door.

      He didn't know where they were going but he didn't protest the soft tug of her hand in his. They sat close together now, leaning on a fallen tree in the middle of a redwood grove. If he concentrated, Foster could still hear the other kids partying not too far off. they sat in silence for a while, the girl only commenting on little things once every couple minutes. then as the hours went by and the fog from his drinks started to rise,  he noticed a slight movement from this strange girl.  Her arms were  shaking and he noticed goosebumps on her legs, uncovered by her long yellow dress.  Handing her his leather jacket his stood. the cold night air billowing out of his lungs. Gathering some sticks and brush he took out his grandpa's lighter and made a fire.



  “Sandy.” The girl squeaked. “ My names… My names Sandy.” Fosters dark eyes met hers. He couldn't ignore that she was beautiful. As odd and quite as she was, he liked her. At Least he thought he did. He couldn't remember the last time he actually liked someone enough to admit it to himself. “Foster.” He snapped. Sandy started chattering, telling him about how she just moved here from texas and hadn't made any good friends yet. Her words quickened as she spoke more and more. But then she stopped and a laugh like a butterfly escaped from her bright red lips. “Whats so funny?” Foster could feel his eyebrows becoming furrowed. “You have a very cute smile, Foster.” Sandy chuckled, her nose wrinkling slightly.  Foster felt himself loosen, and he began to join her in her laughs and awkward conversation for what seemed like hours. He was actually enjoying himself. He hadn't done that since his mother was alive.
     
    For the next couple of weeks after the party  Sandy and Foster spent everyday together. They went swimming down at the river by Sandy’s house, camped out under the stars where they first began their friendship and would go on day trips out of town just to explore. It was heaven for Foster. but his depression started to slowly suffocate him again. he started staying home more and faking sick so sandy would leave him alone. She could tell something was wrong. She knew him better than that by now. They sparkle she had found in his eyes was slowly dying again.

    About two months after they first met, Sandy decided to go swimming again. Foster Watched from a rock, The afternoon sun glistening off his black, slicked back hair. He was exhausted, but it wasn't something sleep could fix. He watched helplessly as she swam through the shimmering water. She seemed so happy. Her red hair trailing behind her as she glided, a huge smile spread across her face. But it only brought an ache to Fosters heart. He knew once school started she would find new friends. She would move on and leave him in his dark shadowy world like everyone else has. Foster stood, dropping his cigarette on the ground as he turned to leave. It was better to break his own heart and leave then have her do it for him like he knew she would. 


  “Foster, wait up!” He could hear her footsteps on the sandy ground getting closer but he tried to ignore them. “Foster, stop.” Sandy put her wet hand on his shoulder to stop him. She hated that he kept leaving her like this. He made her so happy and he couldn't see that. His eyes met hers through his dark sunglasses. She looked so pained and he didn't know why. “I dont feel good, i'm gonna just go home.” His words trailed off as he began to walk away again. “What's wrong Foster?” Sandy sounded exhausted, her hands searching for something to hold on to to steady herself. “ Why cant you just be happy? I just want you to be…” She grabbed his hand and hoped to god he would just look at her again. “ you want me to be what, Sandy?” He couldn't take it. She didn't know how he felt. Everyday it was getting worse. “you want me to be happy? What about when you find another guy to hold on to, huh? you're just going to leave me here in the dust. I cant take it anymore. Its like, i'm drowning but i'm watching everyone else around me breathing.”

   

      He was facing her now. Looking down at her she looked like a confused child. He hated being around her now, hated being so close to someone that couldn't help. He felt furious, like he just wanted to grab her and shake her. Tell her he wasn't okay. “ You want me to be happy, Sandy?” He voice was loud now, he could feel anger bubbling out of his throat. “ You want me to be happy?” he yelled, “Then put a gun to my head and pull the damn trigger.”


    she stepped back. he watched her wet hair fall in her face as her shoulders slumped. a tear ran down her cheek and she sniffled. He didn't mean to yell at her. It pained him to watch her shrink away from him. It was awful. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to run towards her, grab her in a hug and just cry. But he couldn't. Guys didnt cry. He had to be strong and careless. Foster ran his fingers over his hair to smooth it back then turned, hands in pockets and started home. Sandy started whimpering behind him like a wounded dog. She hadn't had someone yell at her since she was little. She felt so fragile. She wrapped her arms around herself and started to run home.

  She ran blind until she felt the cool pavement on her bare feet. Sandy couldn't breath. Her heart was racing and she was full of anger the bubbled through her veins. How dare he yell at her like a child. She hates him for it. But his words rang through her mind. Was he really so unhappy that he would take his own life? That scared Sandy far too much and she began to turn and walk to his house but it was too late. She heard the screeching of brakes and watched bright headlights ingulf her before everything went black.


    The next week Foster lay in his bed, barely eating, barely sleeping. Sandy had been on the news that night when he had gotten home. Her rosey red cheeks were now blur like violets. He watched as her red hair was carried into an ambulance. The pain in his chest was overwhelming l, bringing him to his knees in front if the tv. The tears that threatened to pour out never came. He just sat their, mouth open and heart sinking.

    Foster lay by her grave motionless. His eyes focusing on the black birds hovering in the grey sky. It had been a month since Sandy left him. He didn't see it as her dying. He thought of it more as her leaving him like he said she would. he watched as the sky and trees began to blur together. The birds became globs of black like polka dots.  Foster smiled and let the rose in his hand drop onto her grave while his hand went numb. Then everything became numb and Foster felt relief wash over him. He didn't have to feel pain anymore.  His eyes closed to the swirling world around him, the empty bottle of pills next to him keeping him company as his last breath escaped his lips.