Rosalina's Hope by D.D. Dass (best non fiction books to read txt) 📖

Nobody Said It Was Easy(Rosa):

"Miss Payne." At the familiar voice, I lifted my eyes from the floor to find my therapist approaching me. In her late twenties, Doctor James was stunning. In a five foot five frame she was anything but average looking, all deep brown eyes and a smile that had most men kissing the very ground she walked on. Doctor James was one of my least favorite people. 

 

Arms hugging my chest, I hoped it wasn't time for my appointment. A pointless hope, I knew. 

 

That dazzling smile appeared on her face as she stopped before my mother, a smile I didn't return. Instead, I rose from my seat and walked into the hallway. It wasn't an unusual for me to walk into the room alone, but I was still aware of both my mothers and sisters worried stares, worse my therapists reassuring one. I latched onto the doorhandle...only to find it locked. Breathing a heavy sigh, I turned on my heels to face Doctor James. 

 

"I thought we might take a walk today, Rosalina. If that's alright with you?" The way she talked to me, as if I was mentally incapable of understanding her, made my skin crawl. But I was used to that...I coped with it. 

 

Staring at nothing, over her shoulder, I answered flatly. "That's fine."

 

Doctor James started towards the exit, glancing over her shoulder several times to assure herself that I was still following. Silence was comfortable for me. Coversation was almost always evaded. 

 

I kept my eyes glued to the ground, avoiding the prying eyes of those who wanted to be introduced to the towns infamous survivor. The only victim to have escaped His clutches.Two years had long passed since then, but gossip never died out in my small town, Gunbarral. 

 

Once we made it onto the sidewalk, Doctor James slowed her pace to match mine. "How are you Rosalina? It's been quite a while since our last session," she murmured in that well known sympathetic tone. The sun was bright this afternoon, beaming down on us, so I decided to pull my hood down, staring straight ahead. 

 

"I'm fine." Same old answer.

 

"You're always fine. When will you let me help you? When will you let anyone in?" Never, I thought, but quickly swallow the words and smiled. It was a weak smile, the kind you automatically knew were fake...but it was the best I had at this point. The best I'd probably have at any point. 

 

"I'm nervous about school tomorrow..." I hedged, giving her something to go on. I bit my lip guiltily, knowing telling her that wasn't exactly for help, but rather because she would tell my mother is was a sign of improvement and maybe, just maybe, I could skip these useless thereapy sessions.

 

"And what are you nervous about?" As if it isn't obvious.

 

"Um, you remember Robert...I'm afraid he'll try to talk to me again. Or the stares...God, I hate the stares..." It was the most I'd ever spoken to my therapist so it wasn't a surprise that she began to scribble down every word that came out of my mouth. 

 

Face encouraging, she spoke, "Rosalina it's a possiblity that he might wish to speak with you. From what your mother has told me, you two were crazy about each other and a love like that doesn't end with a snap of the fingers. As for the stares...they're inevitable," she paused, giving me a chance to absorb the truth in those words. The cold reality. "Whether you do to school tomorrow or next weeks, people will stare. It will bother you, that's a natural response, but eventually everyone will forget and go about their lives."

 

I winced at her words, the familiar shame rising within me. Robert had been my first and only boyfriend. From what I remembered, I had shared my first kiss with him and we had been inseperable. Now? I couldn't feel anything...I was indifferent towards him. He was a stranger to me. I wasn't the head cheerleader, I wasn't the same persoon I'd been so many years ago. I was Rosa now; Rosalina had curled into a tight, untouchable casket in my head. 

 

"I know..." I said. "It's fine, really." But she wasn't having it. Doctor James reached out, for my arm, and I flinched. Her face crumpled, making me instantly regret my reaction.

 

For a split second, I thought about reaching out to her, but alarm bells blared in my head and the idea was shut down. Skin to skin contact was unbearable, though I don't--can’t remember why. And I despised not knowing who I was, why I couldn't stand certain things. It was like missing a whole two years of life, a void of daunting nothingness. 

 

The psychiatrist my mother had appointed insisted my brain blocked the trauma, even when I denied it. I had tried and tried to enter that space, searched the deepest recesses of my head, but each time...it was blank. The memories came when they wanted or not at all. 

 

"As I have to ask, Rosalina have you recalled anything?" I closed my eyes, wishing my belly wouldn't lurch every time she asked that question.

 

"No," I answered blankly. Then, "I'm sorry." 

 

With a regretful sigh, Doctor James put the notepad and pencil away, mussing her brown hair which had frizzed. I didn't bother with my hair, letting it hang messily at the crown of my head. 

 

We all had our day’s right? I guessed mine was everyday.

 

"Well, our time is up for today." Breathing a sigh of relief, I started off toward the office. We'd only gone two streets down so I got there within minutes. 

 

My mother's dark eyes met mine before I looked away, stiffly sitting beside my sister. Iris was identical in looks to me, the only difference, a rare case, where I out of both my twins, had been born with blue eyes like my father instead of brown. Not to mention, the scar on my left cheek. 

 

Doctor James, once she arrived, spoke to my mother privately before we left. As expected, the drive home was left to awkward silence, besides my sisters constant fidgeting. 

 

Once in a while, I'll get a memory of how much happier my family was, before the abduction and a wanton ache would start in my chest. My mother, once an always smiling woman, now hardly smiled at all. She tired to hide her sadness, but late at night, when I couldn't sleep and dad wasn't around, I could hear her sobs. I often cried with her. 

 

Once my mother parked, I stumbled up the drive and through the front door where I headed for my bedroom. My house was an odd house, but it was charming, painted babyblue on the outside with more than a few bordered white windows. My father had recently paid for a pool and a ton of fixations on the inside, so it was also pretty modern. 

 

Inside my room, I toed my shoes off and shrugged out of my hoodie. My room was plain, but spacious with buttercup walls from my childhood and a wide window that face the backyard. I had one twin-sized bed that stood furthest from the window...forever fearful of His return. My father had a metal screen installed over the window, but it did little to help. His presense draped me like a shadow. Inside me. 

 

I locked the door and sat on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. Across the room sat a box of Serenity’s old pictures, as soon as I’d been able to come home I’d thrown them into that box. Hadn’t opened it since even though I stared at it when I was all alone in my room like this, it seemed to hold power over me. Like a man holding the strings to a puppet. 

 

There was a soft knock at my door, causing me to jump. “Rosa?” My sisters’ voice was muffled behind the door; I stumbled to the door, opening it slightly.

 

“Yeah?” Behind the door my sister smiled a little, in her hand a box. 

 

“Can I come in?” Reluctantly I opened the door, allowing her to walk in. She looked around, seeming to be disappointed. I was willing to bet she was disappointed in me more than my room.

 

“So…you ready for tomorrow?”

 

Not at all. “Yeah. What’s in the box?” Iris seemed to forgotten it, but her brown eyes widened and she flashed me one of her glowing smiles. Then she sat on my bed, opening the box. Hesitantly I peeked to find a pretty blouse. In baby blue, it was a button up. Confused I glanced up.

 

“Are you wearing that tomorrow? It’s very pretty.” Iris grinned, mischief sparkling in her eyes, making me even more confused.

 

“No silly! You are.” I hadn’t worn anything but black since I’d been home.

 

“No I can’t…you’ll look far prettier than me,” I denied honestly.

 

“Rosa we look identical. Twins.” Triplets.

 

“Well, I still can’t wear that,” I muttered, eyeing the appealing shirt.

 

“Why not? All you wear is black Rosa. It's time for change…” When I didn’t reply she added, “Please Rosa? For me, it’s only one day.” I sighed, feeling the familiar tiredness start up, whipping away my energy and objections.

 

“Alright, one day,” I warned. “Now I’m going to take a shower.” She looked so…happy, springing forward for an obvious embrace, and I cringed. Thankfully, she thought better of it and instead waved before trekking out of the room. 

 

Snatching up a towel, I followed into her direction, entering the bathroom with a relieved sigh. The shower I took was long; the hot water always calmed me down enough that I could actually enjoy the sensation. I scrubbed my lavender scented shampoo until my pin-straight hair was doused completely. Then, I made quick work with my razor. Once I was out, I dried my skin and brushed my teeth, allowing a look at the reflection staring back at me.

 

My skin, usually pale, seemed worse tonight, pulled tight over my cheekbones in that way that had people asking if you were okay. My brown, eyebrows were much to arched above my wide blue eyes framed by barely perceptible eyelashes, a straight nose and an undefined chin. I used to be pretty…I use past tense because the subtle differences, usually noticed, destroyed my potential. The scar marring my right cheek worked as an ugly reminder of equally as ugly memories. The doctors had sewn the lash, wrapped the ribs, and stitched the cracked skull–but the scars and chipped fragments within were out of their reach–ruined. 

 

I ran away from those thoughts and into my bedroom, where I softly closed the door behind me. Drying, I freshened up and dressed into a worn t-shirt and boy-shorts. With a shiver, I climbed into my bed, snuggling deep into the duvet and hugging my knees to my chest as I so often did.

 

Tonight the room was colder on my skin, but I quickly dismissed it as sleep shut my eyelids. 

 

***

With a start, I woke up, breathing deeply to stop the shaking. The familiar shivers ran up my spine, uncontrollable, suffocating me in a river of frost. I clutched the blankets to my chest, reminding myself that I wasn't there anymore...No, I wasn't prisoner to him, I was alone. Completly alone. 

 

My fingers trembling, I switched on the bedside lamp, gripping my last remnants of sanity. It had been so real...Surreal. He was coming, his eyes...all black, depthless fire. A scar...He had a scar, over his right eyebrow and straight down to his eye...A white, colorless eye. 

 

Pushing my feet over the bed, I stumbled out of the room and into the dark hallway, where I descended the stairs. Outside, I finally was faced with the pool. It was still dark out, probably about six a.m. and I smiled a little at the cool air, nothing like the chill of my vacant bedroom. I swayed for a second before dropping onto the warm concrete, breathing in little puffs. Riding out