Verose

SHORT STORY BY AVOLIN SEN / STAFF WRITER

Trigger warning: abuse, suicide

Verose. That was her name. My Verose. My lady of roses. She was stunning. Simply stunning. She was my ray of luminescence in all the darkness of this world. A shooting star that collided with the bleakness of my life, replacing it with utter joy and euphoric colour. We were perfect for each other. We would’ve lived a blissful life, just the two of us, had she not brought him into the equation. He didn’t deserve her. Not at all. No matter how much she tried to reassure me, saying she was okay, this was just a rough patch. But I knew better. I could feel her pain more than anyone else could and see those scars he inflicted upon her. She wasn’t meant for him! She was meant for me. 

I could feel her grief deep in my bones because we were not two different people. We were one. I deserved her because she was my other half. She was the light to my darkness, no matter how extinguished she might’ve been because of him. But it seems fate had other ideas for us. For I lost her when I made the biggest mistakes of my life.

It all began with a very bright morning, in a picturesque townhouse, with the “happy” couple to contrast it. I stared out into the lovely scenery: the delicate birds, the grassy knolls lined with blooming flowers and the other townhouses, ant-like in size due to the distance, all looking perfect. I tried to focus on this scenery, tried to drown out the insults being flung around within the house’s walls.

“VEROSE! How dare you use my money for such frivolous purposes!

“It was for a good cause, William! I never would’ve used your name had I known you were just a selfish, sick piece of-“

With a sickly thud, Verose fell to the ground like a rag doll as Will smacked her rosy cheek with great force. Hot tears ran down my cheeks as my eyes bore into Verose’s with sheer helplessness and desperation. The worst part about this was that I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t tell anyone either.

We were powerless.

Night fell, and I was forced to sleep next to William like I usually was whenever they fought. Verose always pushed me to his side whenever something like this occurred, and I was beyond arguing at this point. Rage began to boil my blood as I looked at her face, at the handprint on her left cheek. That shouldn’t have been there. I could’ve stopped it. I know I could have. Enough was enough. I had to get rid of William. He was the reason Verose and I lost our content life. His riddance would solve our problems, and Verose’s light would be extinguished no more!

I desperately searched around for any weapon within my grasp. Anything to end the monster that brought disaster upon Verose and me. Aha! There it was. A pair of gold sewing scissors sitting on a nightstand. It glinted in the moonlight, inviting me, luring me to my unforeseen doom.

I slowly swiped the scissors away from their place and loomed over a sound-asleep Will. I whispered some prayers for his dark soul in the silence. The last bit of mercy for the man before I’d end him. I brought the scissors over his torso. It was only a couple of inches away from his body—a couple of moments before his death. I could already feel the scissors pass through his ribcage and bury deep into his blackened heart. I was only three centimetres away from good riddance. Two centimetres now! Finally! The good deed would be done! 

“NO!” Verose shrieked, breaking me out of my murderous reverie. The lights in the room turned on, revealing me perched over Will.

“Verose! What are you doing with those scissors?! Wait, Verose NO!”

We wrestled for the scissors, but she won the match as she stabbed them into my chest like a pincushion. That’s when I understood what she valued more. Not our doting love that would’ve brought her joy like no other, but HIM. No matter how aggressive or raging he was, he’d still be loved more than I was. He had unconditional love that I couldn’t attain, and that realization hurt more than the scissors in my heart.

The last image I saw before my death was of Will cradling Verose’s limp body in his arms with tears in his eyes and sobs escaping his mouth, a golden pair of sewing scissors sticking out of her chest. Oh, I did mention how we were one, didn’t I? Because, after all, she was me, and I was her.

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