Roses and Violence

My name is Rose, and whoever you are I hope your life has been filled with love. This is the only time I will have to write my story, and I have to be quick before the guards return. I bribed one of them into giving me a few sheets of paper and enough ink to write. It’s always amazing the amount of humanity people still possess even after they have done the most horrific acts. I don’t know what time it is. The days and hours have long since blurred together and turned into an unending block of space, though I have no right to complain. No, I’ve lived and loved. I’ve fought for my beliefs, and now I’m ready to die for them.

I should probably take you back to my childhood. I was raised in a small villa outside Sundale. During the summer, the fields surrounding my house would blossom wildflowers, and I would spend hours lying amongst them. I remember one time spending a whole day choosing flowers to bring back to my mother. I still can envision the look of surprise on her face and how she kept them in a vase in the dining room until the last flower had withered and died. I also remember the wind. It would whisk up the hill carrying the salty smell of the sea with it. It was my favorite smell. I could close my eyes and dream of the crashing waves and sandy shores. For the first part of my life, my home was my happiest place on earth.

During the summer when I was ten, I met another girl who had moved across from our family. Her name was Abigail, and her hair was the color of summer wheat. She had the bluest eyes I have ever seen, and they always held a spark of youthful innocence. We spent that summer running through the fields and day dreaming under the midday sun. It was at the end of that summer that I realize that her blue eyes were the only ones I ever wanted to gaze into again. I kissed her under the tall maple tree outside my house the night the sky was lit up with fireworks. I couldn’t decided which was prettier, the blush that arose on her cheeks or the fire in the sky. They both filled me with the same excitement.

After that moment, Abigail was mine. We spent the following school year passing love letters and sneaking kisses in the girl’s restroom. I was delighted every time I managed to cause that innocent blush to arise on her cheeks. It was the reason for my existence. I would sneak a glance in her direction just to be able to catch her staring at me. Her presence thrilled me to the point that I wanted to tell everyone of our love. In the afternoons, we would spend time walking through the wildflower fields where we first met. I would walk her home and always kiss her quickly, leaving her to enter her house as the blushing maiden she was. Our love was our secret to cherish and nurture.

I remember vividly the day my world changed. Abigail and I were in the girl’s restroom. I had given her the kiss I had grown so fond of, but instead of the blush that usually followed my gift, I was faced with a look of embarrassment. Confused by her sudden change in behavior, I glanced behind me to meet the cold eyes of our head mistress. She led us to her office where our parents were called. They explain to us how wrong our actions were and how they were just a phase, one that would pass with time. I remember the look of disgust on both of our parent’s faces and the sorrow in Abigail’s eyes. We were sent home for the rest of the day to think about our mistake. When I came back to school the next day, Abigail wasn’t there. That was the last time I ever saw her.

The years passed, and I found myself in high school. Even with the constant assurance of the school board, my parents had decided to transfer me away from the girl’s school I grew up in. They assumed that if I was around males my feelings would change. They didn’t. In high school, I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sara, and the first thing I noticed about her was her eyes. Maybe it was the fact that they reminded me so much of the lost years spent with Abigail, or maybe it was the warmth they held for me. Whatever it was it drew me in, and I knew I never held a chance. We spent hours touching and exploring each other. She was the first girl that ever made me reach heaven. I loved her. With my entire soul, I loved her.

The summer of my senior year I decided to come out to my parents. Sara held my hand as my father screamed at me to get out, and my mother cried for the loss of her baby. She also held me as I cried for the loss of my childhood. I could never go back to my house by the sea. I couldn’t understand the hatred. Why was it so wrong for me to fall in love? Weren’t we all entitled to happiness? The only thing we have in life is our integrity. Are we so low as a race that we sell the one thing that no person can take from us? Without Sara, I would have never been able to understand the value of integrity. She taught me a valuable lesson and with that her place in my life was over.

I left Sundale in my quest to find myself. My journey led me to central Doversville. The tall buildings and bustling people gave me a sense of purpose, and I knew here I could make a difference. I began work at a children’s hospital and was overjoyed with the feeling of accomplishment. I was surrounded by people like me, even if we still couldn’t fully express ourselves. I’d never felt more alive in my life.  The hospital is where I would meet my final love.  Her petite frame and passionate eyes drew me in; I’d never seen such beauty as in the depth of her chocolate eyes. I loved her from the moment I saw her. Before her, I had loved for the purpose of learning. With her, I loved only to feel, and I felt everything with her. She completed me in a way that no other had completed me before. She wasn’t my soul mate; she was my soul. Her name was Aubrey.

I had met her by pure accident. I was walking to my car after a long shift when I bumped into someone sending papers flying in the air. We had both laughed off the incident and as we reached down to pick up the papers, our hands had brushed against each other sending a shock through both of us. I had been too nervous that day to ask anything but her name. Luckily the fates had decided to smile down on me, and I soon found she worked at the same hospital as I did.  It took me months to ask her out, and I had barely managed to stutter out a question before she pulled me into her arms for a hug. I was hers.

The years I spent with Aubrey were the best years of my life. I would wake up every morning with her beside me and for those moments I knew what true happiness felt like. We moved into an apartment together where she would tend to windowsill roses and bake homemade bread. We were the perfect family. Our love out shone any hatred or indifference. Her eyes were never as bright as when I kissed her in the middle of the street. We didn’t care that the world disapproved of our happiness. We had each other, and we had our friends. Life was a muddled bliss of roses and kisses. We couldn’t have been happier.

As the years passed on, the war around us grew. Words like abomination and atrocity became as common as casualty and genocide. We were no longer allowed to show affection in public. We were now an infection in society that needed to be exterminiated. I held Aubrey close as she cried for the loss of our freedom. I only cried at the thought of losing her. The news became riddled with stories of police arrests for public indecency. Murders became more ramped as politics favored the removal of our kind. We watched in horror at the debates to make our love illegal and held each other, savoring every touched. We knew our time of love and happiness was almost over. There were no roses that year.

During the summer of the next year, Aubrey and I moved back to my childhood home. We bought a small house close to the sea and spent much of our time wondering through the wildflower fields. I felt like I was a child again, rediscovering love. Without the gleaming lights of the city, I was free to kiss her anytime I wanted, and I relished in every one of her touches. As battle in the senate swayed against us, we knew that our time was growing shorter. We were terrified but strong willed. A life without each other wasn’t a life we wanted to live.
That winter police forces were sent out to collect anyone accused of treason against the state. We were no longer considered citizens but rebel forces. Our actions were no longer illegal but treason. Aubrey was taken as she was shopping for groceries. I knew when she didn’t return that it would be the last time I ever saw her. I never cried as hard as I did then. I mourned the loss of my soul and waited for the day that they would come and take me away too. I can’t imagine what my Aubrey went through, but I know that a part of me died that day. I would never be the same girl, and I would never have roses and kisses again.

I began to speak out against the movement. I spoke of innocence and integrity and true love. I spoke of all the things that my life had taught me. I remember each of my loves fondly and held Aubrey in a place that they could never take her away—my heart. The forces eventually found me, and I too was taken away from the only happiness I had ever known. They stripped me of everything I owned and imprisoned me in a darken cell. They didn’t understand that the only thing I deemed important would never be able to be taken away. I will always have my integrity, and I will always have love.

I will know only few things when I walk out into the plaza today. One, the sky will be the robin egg’s blue that I remembered so fondly from my childhood with the sun bright in its high noon shine. Two, the breeze will still carry the faint salty smell of seaweed and summer up from the sea, sweeping away the smell of gunpowder. And three, I am going to die for everything that matters: for love and integrity, innocences and freedom, roses and kisses. For Abigail, and Sara, for you, and for myself. For Aubrey. I couldn’t be happier.