Roze

The sirens were screaming, but the blood on my hands felt louder.

My life was over.

In the eyes of the law—in the eyes of everyone I loved—I had killed Mia.

My best friend.

My neighbor.

I stood in her house, the air still tasting like her copper-scented death, and I realized the truth didn't matter. I hadn't seen the killer. I hadn't seen anything but the nightmare she’d become.

I had to run. I had to vanish before they buried me for a crime I didn't commit. Sky Parker had to die so that the truth could eventually live.

~

'5 years later'

“Finally, we’re here,” I muttered, my voice sounding like a stranger’s even to me.

“Yeah, finally!” Jenny sighed, a loud, bone-popping stretch following her 15-hour haul from Chicago. She flopped her bag onto the dusty floor of our new living room. “Hey Roze, you still haven't told me why you insisted on a house here in Colorado instead of just staying in the city...”

Jenny was the only tether I had to the world. We’d been inseparable since I arrived in Chicago five years ago. People thought we were childhood friends, a lie I let them believe because the truth was a cage.

“I’ll tell you soon, Jen,” I said, forced calmness masking the tremor in my hands. “Just be patient.”

She dropped it, giving me the space she always did. But as soon as she left to grab us some food, the silence of the house began to itch. I walked to the window, peeling back the curtain just enough to see the street.

My heart stopped.

There, leaning against the door of the house directly across from ours, was Edward. He was playing with a dog, his face relaxed, a ghost from a life I’d tried to burn.

Edward. My other best friend. The man who had looked me in the eye five years ago and told me he was disgusted by me. The man who had ditched me along with my own family. I heard he’d moved away after I disappeared, but seeing him here—now—felt like a cruel joke from the universe.

He must not see me.

I yanked the curtains shut. Even with the blonde hair and the new name, Edward knew the curve of my face too well. I spent the next hour pacing, my stomach grumbling with a hunger I was too terrified to feel, until Jenny finally returned.

We ate, we laughed, we tried to make this strange little house feel like a home. We were singing along to the radio, loud and off-key, when a sharp knock at the door cut through the music.

My breath hitched. I opened the door, and the world dissolved.

“Hi, I’m Edward. Your neighbor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He was smiling down at me—the same lopsided smile that used to mean safety.

I felt the first spark of a panic attack, a sensation I hadn't felt in four years, licking at my chest. Control it, I commanded myself. You are Roze.

“Hi, I’m Roze,” I said, my voice tight as I shook his hand. “And this is my best friend, Jenny. Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

We sat down, but I couldn't feel the sofa beneath me. Every time he looked at me, my skin crawled. I felt dizzy, the walls of the room leaning in as if to whisper my real name.

“Hey, Roze, are you okay?” Edward asked, his brow furrowing. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay, don't worry. I just need some water,” I managed to choke out.

I stood up to flee to the kitchen, but his next words turned my blood to ice.

“You look familiar, Roze. Have I seen you before anywhere?”

“No, I don't think so,” I snapped, the answer coming too fast, too defensive. I didn't wait for his reaction; I bolted for the kitchen.

I gripped the edge of the sink, my breath coming in short, jagged pants. My future was flashing before my eyes: handcuffs, a courtroom, the look of hate on his face when he realized who I was.

“Roze?” Jenny’s voice was far away. She appeared in the kitchen, her eyes wide with alarm. She grabbed a glass of water, then orange juice, trying to press them into my shaking hands.

But I couldn't hold them. I couldn't breathe. Behind her, Edward appeared in the doorway, his eyes searching, suspicious.

The air vanished. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. As I struggled for oxygen, my flailing arms knocked both glasses out of Jenny’s hands. Shards of glass sprayed across the floor—a jagged reflection of my shattered life.

The world turned blurry, a haze of gray and black. I felt Edward’s hands on me, trying to steady me, and the irony was a physical weight. The man I was running from was the one holding me up as the darkness finally took me.

AN: this is my first trial in writing so please bear with me, and criticize whatever you feel should be improved. Thanks a lot.