My Little Flower
Brittany Oliveira, Grade 11, St Francis Xavier College - Senior Campus
Excellence Award in the 'Dream Big 2013' competition
Flying into the room, door slamming shut behind me, I launched myself onto the bed, screaming into the tear stained pillow.
“Well that didn’t go well.” The all too familiar voice mused.
“Leave me alone.” I begged clutching the pillow tighter as a hand began to stroke my hair, hot breath blowing against my ear.
“I only want to help you Little Flower.” He cooed.
“Liar. You’re a liar; you always have been, you always will be.”
“Such little faith you hold in my Little Flower.”
“My name is Lily!” I growled, sitting up and pushing him away from me, though he barely moved an inch.
“I know that, but you are my Little Flower. And I just want to help my Little Flower.” As he spoke, he held up a blade. The blade I was sure I’d thrown away. The blade still stained with my blood. “This will help.”
I tried to stay strong, moving away from him and closing my eyes, thinking of happy things. Anything but that blade. Then her voice filled my mind.
‘He only keeps you because he has to. You will always just be the one who killed his wife.’
And just like that I broke, taking the blade from his hands and dragging it against my wrist, letting out a sigh of content as the blood flowed freely down my palm, dripping onto the floor. I felt his hand rest on my back as he cooed, “Isn’t that better? Doesn’t that feel good?”
But no matter how good it felt, the guilt that followed always destroyed any euphoria I felt.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I sobbed when the guilt finally did settle in, as he bound my wrist.
“You know I’m only doing this because I care for my Little Flower.”
“But why? Why are you making me do this?” he gave a deep chuckle.
“You know the answer to that.” I cried harder, knowing it was true before forcing out the words that hurt so much to say.
“Because you’re Death.”