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When I awoke she was by my side, as she has always been, and as she always will be. She promised, and Rose doesn't break her promises. I was still in the cold bathroom, propped up against the toilet like a drunk. My arm throbbed but the bleeding had been staunched by thick gauze. She saved my ass. Again.
If you asked me when I met Rose, I'd tell you she there was never a time without her. She has always been by my side, or, more correctly, I was always her shadow.
"Promise me you won't tell." She'd always beg, as if I'd share her with the world. No. Rose was mine and mine alone.
"I'll never leave you," she whispered in the night, "you'll never be alone." And so I wasn't. She dressed me, fed me sparingly, took me on jogs. I was her pet, she told me so. I love her with all that she is that I am not.
"You'll be happier when you see bone." Rose pointed out my imperfections. Ran her smooth hands over me, calculating the fat, the blood, and the bone underneath. "You'll be happier when you're all mine."
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