Blood & Roses

One evening as they sat thus cosily together someone knocked at the door as though he desired admittance. The mother said: "Rose-red, open the door quickly; it must be some traveller seeking shelter." - The Red Fairy Book

Snow White:

At home, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror again. I thought about my options, what I could do. I could try vomiting again -- perhaps use a feather? But that hadn't worked last time and I had heard horror stories from my mother about anorexic girls who had torn their stomach lining.

But I had to do something. I had something inside of me.

Why? Why do anything? Why not just accept it? It can be so very fun.

It wasn't a voice, more like an urge. This urge to just accept it, to go along with the flow.

You could try so many things. It could open up so many doors for you.

My head hurt. My eyes watered. The whites had turned red again. "What are you?" I asked.

Just let go, let everything go. We can show you how to be fun. We can show you how to live life to the fullest.

The veins in my neck pulsed. I pushed my hands against the mirror and I ground my teeth and I said, "What. Are. You."

We are the blood and the sin. We are hunger and lust and life. Relax. Don't resist. It will feel better if you didn't resist.

I pushed forward and cracked the mirror and shards fell into the sink. I picked one up, long and jagged, and held it against my wrist.

And then I heard the scream.

Rose Red:

While Snow was having her crisis, I was having mine.

I had ran home and locked the door behind me. I was hyperventilating and close to blacking out, so I tried to calm down. I slowed my breathing, I took deep breaths, I tried not to fucking panic. And then I saw it.

On the dining room table, there was a bouquet of roses. Light pink roses, white roses, blue roses, and, of course, red roses.

And there was a note. It simply read:

BE MINE.

He grabbed me from behind. He put one hand over my mouth. It felt sharp and prickly, like it was made of thistle (hence the name I gave him). I bit down on his hand with all my strength and sap flowed into my mouth.

He let me go and I screamed. It wasn't one of those screams you hear in horror movies where the last girl is finally confronted by the killer or a dead body or any-fucking-thing. It was a fucking visceral scream. My throat still hurts from it.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop him. He took my shoulders and pulled me to his side.

The last thing I saw was my sister rushing out into the room and then everything became black.