Bloomless Flower

'The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.' The emperor whispered to Shang. The words echoed in Corsica's mind. What a lovely quote, too lovely to be used for herself. She was no flower, she was definitely rare but not the good kind, and she most likely was not beautiful. If she ever was to be a flower, she would be a rose bush filled with bloomless roses and she wouldn't even metaphorically be the roses instead she was the thorns.

'You can't make me go!' Corsica slammed her bedroom door shut on her father and the guests that had arrived to reveal the news that Corsica was given one of the finest scholarships to attend 'King Edward VI Five Ways School' as a Sixth former. She was in her last year of high school and it was confusing why her parents would try to send her away when she was so close to graduation at her high school in the States. Corsica came from a very wealthy family of investors and traders. Wealthy enough to get her the kind of scholarship she was being offered as of now.

Corsica had a two older brothers who had taken a liking into their father's business. Both her brothers resided in Hong Kong. They made an effort to ring and try to keep in contact with their little sister but she chose to reject the phone calls, text messages and emails from them, not just her brothers but also from her friends who were finding it hard to be on the same level as Corsica. Everyone was finding it hard to be on the same level as Corsica.

Everyone assumed Corsica was feeling sorry for herself. How could she feel sorry for herself when she didn't care about herself? Assumptions were what she was faced with from her parents, her brothers, and her friends. Corsica didn't care about anything, it was hard to after some things she had witnessed. Having to uphold her parents pride by keeping her grades up, being polite and ladylike. It wasn't her. None of it was. Her masked exterior of being a sweetheart was shedding, fast. She was more impatient, snappy and moody. No one knew why, she didn't want to reveal why.

There was a knock at her door, followed by a slight opening of her door. Corsica shoved on her headphones and raised the volume letting The Rolling Stones draw her anger with 'Paint It Black'. She could see her father's lips move and she could read what he was saying. She observed him closely. She had his eyes, they were a deep light brown, almost hazel coloured at times, the bridge of his nose was narrow, her brothers had both inherited his sharp jawline and his hair that was still dark from his constant hair dying, he didn't like the term aging, didn't believe in it so he tried to avoid it. He also has very thing lips. They were moving apart and fairly quickly. Those were the same lips that she had seen him pashing Mrs. Dooley with, her mother's close friend who they all considered their aunt. He was yelling by now and she reverted to closing her eyes, drowning herself into the last verse.

She opened her eyes to find her dad slamming the door shut, in time for the song to end. She pulled off her earphones and took a deep breath in. She waited until her father's car exited the gates and jumped off her bed, heading downstairs. She found her mother in the kitchen attempting to bake a recipe she found on the 'Pinterest'. Her mother was beautiful. She had chestnut brown thick hair that was up in a bouffant, she had a very feminine face, angled eyes that was touched by eyeliner at the corners, a petite nose and plush pink lips. Her skin was sun kissed from her many adventures in the European countries.

'Are you okay, honey?' Her mother's voice was soft. She tried not to push Corsica away but instead help her. Briseis watched as her daughter slid onto one of the stools. She could never understand Corsica, but she did always try after all it was a mother's job to be there for her kids. Corsica was always a step ahead from everyone else. Her own mother would've been proud of the way she had raised Corsica. Briseis waited patiently for her daughter to speak. Corsica stared outside the glass doors at nothing.

'I'm fine, mom. Would you like some help?' Corsica shifted in the chair reaching over to whisk the eggs and sugar that her mom had prepared. She always had a feeling to tell her mother that her own husband was cheating and not with some random woman but one that they all knew well. Seeing her mother cry was something she couldn't handle, she was never good with showing or accepting affection. Hugs weren't anywhere on her list of favourite things.

'You know we just want the best for you, sweetheart.' Corsica didn't look up to face her mom. She only nodded.

'I know.' She waited for her mother to ramble on about the days of when she was young and went on trips to Europe and all over the world. Corsica watched her mother as her eyes twinkle with excitement when remembering all the wonderful places she had visited. It made her want to experience some of the wanderlust herself. But it wasn't like Corsica to be excited or adventurous. She would always be boring, cynical Corsica. The cynic with a messed up home life filled with pretense. A thorn in a rose bush, a bloomless flower.