Hello all! Welcome to the 2nd upload of chapter 1 of Blood and Roses. Nothing has changed except the layout and this paragraph here. Oh, and some italics here and there. CC thanks is still the same, acknowledgements are still the same, quotes are still the same, blah blah blah. So have fun. XD
Rated PG-13 for fairly mild language, some violence, and romance.
I was in trouble. And I knew it. I was really late, I was soaked to the skin and now my mother was going to be as mad as a bull.
For a going on eighteen year old, I got into more trouble that the average five year old. Forever poking my nose right where it didn't belong. Always forgetting the time and staying out way later than I was supposed to. In the pouring rain. And now I was in big trouble.
I walked into my house slowly, avoiding my mother's eyes as she simply looked at me. I fidgited nervously, dripping a puddle onto the floor.
"Erika Marie Johnson," said my mom sofly, and I realized that she was madder than she let on. But I had survived worse.
"Yeah, mom?" I replied, trying to sound innocent. She didn't buy it.
"What were you thinking?!" she yelled, all softness thrown by the wayside.
Fury bubbled inside me. It scared me; this had happened before. It was like I couldn't control it. It didn't help that my mom was also a major control freak.
"What do you think I was doing?" I hissed, trying to control my temper.
"I told you to be home by six! Do you know what time it is now?!"
I clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms.
"Seven thirty." I answered, teeth ground together.
"Exactly!" my mom yelled. "And what's more, you're dripping, you're filthy, and you're not listening to me when I tell you how it goes!"
The anger flared within me, and it felt as if it scorched my insides.
"I'm seventeen!" I bellowed. There. I had scared her. I could see it in her eyes, could see how she flinched back from me as if I had branded her with a red-hot poker. I felt strangely pleased. I shook my head to clear the feeling, but the rage continued. It was eating me alive.
"I should be able to do what I want!" I continued, trying to control the level of my voice. It didn't work. "Why do you insist on treating me like a baby?!"
The next thing I knew, she had slapped me across the face. Hard. And it hurt. Alot.
The anger within me hit the boiling point. I shoved her aside, racing up the stairs into my room. Angry tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Half-blinded by the tears and anger, I burst into my room.
Although in my room, the feeling of hate and rage didn't leave me. I made up my mind in a split second.
"This is so dumb." I muttered to myself. But I didn't stop
I burst out the door, past my startled mother, and outside again.
I ran and ran. Nothing could stop me. Except for one thing. The cold. The sky had dropped a blanket of snow in the short time I had been fighting with my mom. So now I was soaked (yet again) up to my knees, and my toes were numb.
As I ran, I remembered a line from the movie Titanic.
"The thing I'm most worried about is the cold....it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing every part of your body....you can't breathe, you can't think...at least not about anything but the pain."
Well, whoever wrote the script was utterly and completely right. I couldn't even remember what time it was.
After what seemed like an eternity, but had probably only been a few minutes, I stopped running. Every breath tore at my lungs like a knife. Every inch of me was shaking; I couldn't even focus on my hand in front of my face.
I'm so incredibly stupid! I thought. I have to get home before I freeze.
I looked around, and a surge of panic coursed through my body. I couldn't remember which way I had come.
I stepped back to try to turn in the deep snow, but I tripped over something that I couldn't see, and I fell.
I hit my head against a rock, and it all went black.