Dangerously beautiful blooming

My parents were…oddly overprotective.
I know, I know, just the overprotective adjective would be more than enough to smile wryly, and laugh in anticipation of the antics they’ve done to me.
But they took it a notch…higher.
Everything was and still is baby-proofed.
There are no glasses, metal cutlery, or porcelain dishes in our household.
I had to wear gloves when writing/reading, lest I cut myself with the paper.
When I was showering, my mom was always watching making sure I don’t cut myself, or hurt myself.
I was always wearing thick clothes, at least relatively, even during summer heat-waves.
I was exempted of P.E. classes, but at least I was allowed to do exercises home, of course under their supervision.
As I said…odd.
And now, having turned 18, I start to get annoyed.
I finished high-school, and now I have already aced my entrance exams to the University of my dreams.
And I love my parents.
Without them, nothing I’ve achieved would’ve been possible, and without them, nothing I achieved would be worth anything…
But they want to move to the city where the University is, and they want to live and take care of me…
I appreciate, and it’s a heartwarming action, but…
It starts to bug me…
I am grateful, and I love them more than anything in this world, but I feel shackled…breathless…caged…
It’s not a nice feeling, when all those of my age are boasting about their travels, parties, relationships and many more.
The world is filled with color and life, and of course dangers as well, but that’s how life is…
But my life is home and studying, reading, learning…
It’s too dull…
Thus, I decided with a heavy heart, and after discussing a lot with my only friend, Maria, that I will run away from home.
Maria is a year older than me, and her parents bought her an apartment, so I will have where to live.
And so I did.
Leaving behind a letter, in which I thanked my parents for everything, but also told them not to be looking for me.
I left, and went to live with Maria, and it was amazing.
We went shopping, the classes were fun and interesting, not going to lie, the amount of information was a tad bit overwhelming, but I was studying to be a doctor, it was to be expected.
When I had time, I even went partying, and time trickled by.
Three years passed, and nothing happened.
And to be straightforward, on the very first day I arrived, I cut my finger.
Just to see what apocalyptic thing will happen if I hurt myself.
And nothing happened.
My mother always told me, that I should be careful not to hurt myself, and bleed.
To which, after I got my period, I laughed and thought on amusedly.
After all, I was bleeding every month, and nothing happened.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Time passed, and soon, I started my residency.
I was lucky or unlucky enough to be accepted into the ER department of a rather “popular” hospital.
I say popular because it was situated on the edge between the city itself and a lot of suburbs.
And then it happened.
I was checking on a patient, when a nurse came in.
She didn’t see me, and hit me.
I fell, and cut myself.
At first I just laughed it off, but ran off quickly to disinfect the wound.
As I was hurrying to ask one of my colleagues for some help, I looked at the wound.
It was open, but the blood was yet to flow.
I don’t know why I was so…worried.
Was it because my mother’s words or because the terrifying sense of dread that washed over me?
I sped up, but because of that I bumped into someone.
The shock made me drop my arm to my side, and a droplet of blood hit the walls.
Immediately, a beautiful red light shone, and a dark-red rose like object bloomed.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at it.
The dark-red rose continued to grow and grow, until it touched a patient that was sitting on a chair.
The moment it touched the patient, its light blinked and the patient started shivering.
A second later, his skin started to rupture, and he started to bleed profoundly.
His blood also started to bloom into a beautiful but terrifying rose.
I gasped, and quickly bandaged my arm…
I felt guilty…if I had bandaged it sooner…
But I had no time to mourn my own decisions, as everyone started to scream, as the dark-red roses started to spread.
Everyone who was not fast enough became their victim.
The director and the others quickly evacuated the hospital, and called the authorities…
I slipped away, but I knew there were not only witnesses but also footage about what happened.
Someone with a tad bit more attentive eyes will surely guess that it was me who started this…this phenomenon.
I went to my car, and drove home.
There, Maria was waiting anxiously for me…alongside with my parents.
My mom quickly came up to me, and with swift and practiced movements, undid the make-shift bandage and applied some cream over my wound.
The wound instantly closed up.
My mom checked me, and after a few minutes, she sighed in relief.
I was baffled.
My father also just smiled, before sighing.
“We told you…You have to be careful…”
He said.
“What’s…What’s going on?
I saw your hospital on the news…Some kind of new fungus or what they were talking about..
Are you alright, Alice?”
Maria asked.
“I am….
I am alright.”
I said, trying my best not to cry.
“Let’s go, we have a lot to talk about.”
Mother said, with her usual, calm and sweet voice.
“Maria, I will be back, I need to sort some things with my parents.”
I said, as we left.
Maria just nodded.
When we got to the car, I looked at my parents, and started laughing.
I had enough.
“What am I?
Some sort of monster, alien, demon or some lab creation?”
I asked.
Father trembled at this and frowned, but he just started the car.
I stared at mom, who just smiled back at me.
“You are our daughter, that’s all you need to know right now.”
She said.
I started sobbing, as we began driving away.
I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what will happen.
But I am scared.
Not because of what happened.
Not because of what my blood does.
But because…
I find it…
I find the roses…
I found them really beautiful…

Published by omnithenerva

Wannabe fiction writer. In love with mythology, and fantasy themes.

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