His Last Rose

her heart hurt. he didn't understand his feelings. she decided to end it all. he wouldn't let her. she fell in love, with the wrong boy. but when the other man appears in her life, can maysilee find the one she truly loves?

he loves me, he loves me too.


2. Memories

“Oh God. Oh shit! If Mom sees this...”

“What’s wrong with her hand?”

“I’m gonna get in so much trouble. My social life will be ruined! God damn it!”

“Is she dead?”

“Shut up, Mia! I can’t do this...”

“Can I have her room?”


I tried to open my eyes. Everything was a blur, I couldn’t tell where I was or who was around me. I blinked, hoping my vision would clear.

“Shealynn.” A young voice said. The voice of my eight year old sister, Mia. “Shea!”

There was a pause, before an exasperated sigh. “What?” asked the voice of my older sister, Shealynn, aged twenty-seven. Although I couldn't see her, I could recognize her irritated tone of voice.

“She moved.” Mia innocently informed her.

Shealynn let out a sigh of frustration. “Great, Mia. But in case you haven’t noticed, that’s barely an improvement. She’s still unconscious!”

“Shealynn, quit it. You’ll scare her,” I mumbled, just about managing to sit up, though my world was spinning.

“May,” she said, and I heard her fall backwards into the chair at my desk. “Thank the Good Lord,” she whispered, relief poured into her words.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Mia asked, tenderly taking my stinging red hand in her small, soft ones. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Shealynn looked at me, her eyes just as questioning. “Nothing,” I replied quickly, pulling my hand away from Mia. “I just tripped on the sidewalk.”

“Why did you pass out?” Shea asked, folding her perfectly tanned arms across her perfect C-cup chest, her perfect sea green eyes sparkling at me.

I looked away. I would never stop living in my sister’s glamorized shadow. “I was tired.”

“You were out for a whole day. You’re lucky Mom and Dad are on their business trip, or they would have flipped,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Is it because of a boy? Has anyone been hurting you?”

Quickly I shook my head, but on the inside I felt sick. It had only been a few days ago, and the memory still burned in my brain.

I'd been walking home from school, running my fingers over the raised edges of the scars on my wrists, tears streaming down my face, realizing that there wasn't one person on this planet who would care if I died.

If I disappeared.

If I had never been born.

I was a mistake.

Finally succumbing to the pain, I knelt down on the sidewalk, my shoulders shaking as I cried, no one there to comfort me.

“Hey, Dollface. No need for those sad eyes.” A voice said next to me.

I whipped around in shock, searching for the voice. The street was empty. I got up from my position and began to walk further down the street, occasionally wiping my teary eyes.

“Hey now,” said a man, revealing himself from behind a car parked at the side of the road. A black van. “I can make all your problems go away.”

I panicked, and ran. Now sprinting down my street, he was in his car, pursuing me persistently. I turned a corner, into an alley next to my apartment complex, hoping the darkness would conceal me from my follower.

Instead, I bumped into someone else. Startled, a scream escaped my lips, and a warm hand was clamped over my mouth. I tried hard to steady my breathing, relax myself, though I was sure I had just trapped myself.

The silhouette of the man with the van was obvious on the sidewalk; I could see him looking all around for any signs of me. But if he was out there, then who...

The stranger holding me carefully inched us backwards, holding me close to them, and I could hear their heartbeat. Steady, and calm.

On the sidewalk, the man took one final look around before retreating to his van and speeding off.

Then the hand was removed from my mouth.

“Hey there,” the stranger said. Their voice was deep, definitely male, matching their strong arms that had held me in my moment of fear.

I broke down. I couldn't help it. Tears fell from my face like steady waterfalls, overflowing. The helpful stranger pulled me to his chest, and I lay my head there, letting the tears fall, the reality of the situation finally hitting me.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the stranger murmured, wrapping his arms around me, his hands rubbing calming circles on my back. “You’re safe now."

Slowly and reluctantly, I pulled away from my care giver, just as a flash of light shone across the alley. For a quick second I caught a glimpse of his face. His hair was tousled messily, but very attractively, across his forehead. He had sparkling blue eyes that shone down on me with concern. He was nearly three inches taller than me, so I had to look up slightly. Clearly defined cheekbones, lips practically chiseled onto his face by angels. I imagined his lips on mine, feeling the warmth of him on me.

Until I realized I wasn't imagining it. Our lips were entwined together, his hands wrapped around my waist. His touch was soft, reassuring. I felt an uneasy feeling in my stomach kissing him. Then I came back to my senses. I broke the kiss, partially regretting it, and sprinted out of the entrance to the alley. His voice called after me, but I didn't respond. I had gotten myself in enough trouble for one day, I needed to get home.

And so I did, nearly forgetting about my close encounter with a rapist, being saved by a strange hero in the alley, kissing him and the butterflies that came with his touch. I had moved on, until the words ‘boy’ and ‘hurting’ had been used in the same sentence had the memories resurfaced.

“May?” Shealynn asked, quickly moving to sit next to me, wiping my tears away.

I hadn't even noticed I’d been crying. “I'm fine, Shea. You can go.”

She stood, slowly, and grabbed my hand. “I'm always here for you, May. Don’t forget that. You'll always have me.” She whispered the last sentence, before picking up Mia and leaving me to my misery.

And even though I knew I should trust in Shea and believe her when she said those words, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

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