[ WP ] Just because you love them , does n't mean they have to love you back .

I looked down at the small, battered wooden cross and a ruby red rose that I held in my hand, my gaze flickering sadly between the two, and I slowly closed my fist around them. My left arm was cradling a soaked blue umbrella like it was a piece of driftwood and I was drowning in the sea - embroidered with flowers of all colours on it's surface, their petals warn away and faded to soft shades of red, green, pink and yellow, nothing like their bright and colourful former selves. I choked back my tears and unclenched my fist, blood already streaming out of the stinging crescent-shaped wounds where my nails had dug into my palm, the blood staining the holy cross and the stem of the rose, making the thorns look like they were bleeding red blood. 
 
 I slowly knelt down and placed them onto the muddy ground, my hands trembling with sorrow. First the cross the wood soaked with tears, the bottom driven into the ground like a stake protruding from the heart of a vampire, then the rose, the blood red petals fluttering to the ground, bright patches of red against the dark soil. The *slowly*, very *slowly*, I followed them, my knees thudding to the ground - my jeans soaking up the rainwater - then my hands, the red blood mixing with the soil, tainting the holy ground. But I did n't care, my hair fell in front of my face like a red curtain of - 
 
 *Blood*... 
 
 I stayed like this for a while until the night had passed and dawn had come. Then, and only then, was I ready to let go. 
 
 I looked down at the floor and stood up, my knees shaking. I remembered what my mother had told me after my father had left. `` Just because you love them, it does n't mean they have to love you back.'' She'd said, `` And I loved your father, but he did n't know this, and that's why he ran away.'' She'd told me, her voice cracking. But I think the real reason he left her - us - was because we loved him, and he did n't love us back. 
 
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 ~ jas0850 
 
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