“ These roses ! They ’ re dull and bloody . They ’ re horrendous , disgusting , revolting !” I yelled with all my emotion . The blue eyes of my mother ’ s had a puzzled look within
“ But Daphne , they are the same kind of roses like the ones you admire from your window box ” my mother explained , trying to sooth me with her calm , affectionate voice . The same voice she used when she tried calming the masses when the touchy subject of war got around .
“ No mother , these roses are horrid . Their bloody red color frightens me . I want the ones outside . Those are a beautiful red velvet , their smell brings heaven to my nose ” I explained to my cruel mother .
“ Sweetheart , they ’ re the roses like the ones in the window box , they ’ re exactly the same ” my mother replied to my pointless tantrum . I was too old to be having a tantrum , I was already 15 , but those roses were enough to cry for .
“ No , not at all . The ones I see through my glass window , those are sparkling , those are beautiful . These , these roses have lost their magic when they entered this house . Just like everything that has entered this house lost their magic . Once you throw them out , when in your eyes , they lost their beauty , and they ’ re out in the open , then their magic and true beauty will return again . Even if they ’ re dead and no longer red , they ’ ll still be beautiful in my eyes ” I said emotionally , tears filled up my eyes . My mother ’ s gaze switched over from me to back to her food . She didn ’ t reply back to my monologue about the dead roses , instead she ignored it . Just like she ignores the complaints from her people about the potential war . The proper wording would be our people , but those people are the reason I cannot go to the park or go anywhere without men in bulletproof vests . Death threats arrived every day . We were hated . They wished death upon my family . I do not blame them . We were putting potential death upon them , why wouldn ’ t they wish the same to us ? It ’ s like how I hate those who stole my childhood . They took something valuable away from me , why shouldn ’ t I wish something horrible upon them ? I do not blame the public ; I only hate them because they ’ re also a border between me and the other side of my glass window . They do deserve war , they honestly do .
My mother stood up and left the table . She didn ’ t acknowledge my presence ; she simply left me alone with the dead roses and the thoughts of revenge and karma fresh in my mind . After I finished eating , I went back up to my room and stared at the ceiling instead of out my glass window . The ceiling , the walls for that matter , reminded me that I was caged in , that nothing I do would change my condition . That even if I wished every night to be anywhere but here , I always woke up in the same small bed , the same , pale pink walls , in the same prison . Nothing changed and I doubt it ever will . When the war begins , it ’ ll be even worse . Our home would be surrounded by guards ; my glass window would be replaced by a dark , bulletproof window ,