The Rose and The Thorn

"But he, that dares not grasp the Thorn should never crave the Rose." — Anne Brontë ‎ ‎My name is Amaelia and this is my story of love and revenge. ‎ ‎My heart beat was so loud I was sure the darkness could hear it too. I prayed to the stars, the gods, the moon, the sun, the rain, the earth, whatever could come rescue me at this point. Wishes never come for a child of darkness, I guess. ‎ Suddenly, ‎It breathed down my neck. My hiding place was exposed. ‎What was it? I didn’t know. But I was about to find out. ‎ ‎Ten years later... ‎ ‎"This is the new student, Amaelia Thorn. Say hello to the class and sit by the window." ‎ ‎The girl before the class wasn’t the bright ten-year-old they remembered. In her place: a young woman with a jagged thorn-scar across her left cheek, grey-blue eyes, and a baggy uniform hiding everything else. ‎ ‎"Hello, class." I said in a soft voice. ‎Silence pressed against the walls. ‎ ‎I walked to the window seat and stared out. A voice slid behind me, low and familiar. ‎“We meet again. Welcome to Akeledon High, bitch.” ‎ ‎