A Cold chill shuddered down my back. The autumn morning brought a cold breeze whipping through the valley. With it came a shower of red, yellow, and orange. The day was young. The indiglow function of my digital, ten-dollar watch, read 3h00. Another breeze surged through the oaks that lined the dirt road. I pulled my jacket firmly around my body. The oaks with their rigid branches, cast long shadows over the frozen earth. The first frost had set in during the night, killing every sign of summer. Every rose, that the valley was known for, would not bloom again for another year and the only rose still alive, clung to life in my grasp. I held it tighter, the thorns pierced my skin and blood dripped from my hands, but I didn’t really notice.

"Take my hand, and close your eyes," his voice softly lingering in my ear.

"All right," I replied.

"I want to show you something," he said.

The sun’s warmth covered my shoulders. Summer had come at last. I smiled.

"Open your eyes."

I blinked at the sudden change of light. It was beautiful. Never in my life had I ever seen anything like it. Roses. Yellow roses, white roses, pink and peach ones, red ones, vines, and miniature. I glanced at him. His face was slightly tanned from working in the sun and his blonde hair gleamed. His green eyes locked with mine giving off a warm radiance.

"Roses are your favorite, are they not?" He beamed, but the glow soon faded, "Jessica?"

"Yes?" I asked.

"There is only one thing I love more than roses . . . " My heart skipped a beat. ". . .You. These roses will last until the first frost, but my love for you will never end. Jessica, will you please make me the happiest man ever and marry me?"

I swallowed hard at the thought. The memory still dwelled in my mind. I loved him. I loved him with all my heart that’s why I had said yes, right? Tears welded up in my eyes and stung my face as they came down. My feet stopped. There it was. The blue Dutch colonial. It’s navy shudders were open as always. All the rooms were pitch black. Another chill slid down my spine. This time, not from the cold. The house had always creeped me out.

The gate was old and rickety. I slid it open just enough to slide through, hoping he had not heard it open. The moon lighted the path through the trees. Inside it was dark. The only light was coming through the stained glass windows of the French doors that he had put in after buying the house.

"Jessica . . . "

"Yes?"

"I have a confession to make. I found a house . . . and I really think it’s about the best house I have ever seen. It’s perfect for us," He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at my expression. He slowed down until the silver corvette had stopped. I glanced out the window. The Dutch colonial was stunning. It needed a coat of paint a couple boards needed to be replaced on the porch that was obviously added on after the house was built, but it looked perfect. I stepped out and ran to the door. James followed.

"I love it!" I gave him a warm hug and lightly kissed his pale lips, "I love you . . . " Before he could say another word, I scrambled through the door. Inside was just as elegant. It’s most elegant feature, was its spiral staircase.

I climbed the stairs. Every step was vital. One false move and it would end. My heart started pounding harder. I could feel every beat in my chest, all the blood that surged through my veins, and all the hatred that flooded my soul. Why did he do that to me? How could he? My arm fell to my side. I clutched the sheath. Inside held the seven inch blade. I stopped outside his door. My breathing became heavy. Sweat droplets stained my face and dampened the back of my neck underneath my red hair.

I slid the knife out of its sheath. The blade sparkled in the moonlight. The handle blended in with the night. I clenched it tightly in my fist until I could no longer feel my hand. He would pay!

"Come by around 14h00 . . . ok?" He asked over the phone.

It was now 13h50. I stepped out of the car. He wouldn’t mind if I was a little early. I walked through the gate. It creaked a little. I walked to the back of the old farmhouse. Soon we would start moving our stuff to the Dutch colonial. The inside of the Dutch colonial gave me an eerie feeling, but I had gotten use to it and had finally decided to move in. Today we were going to start moving his stuff into the house. I walked to the rose garden. It was now in full bloom. "Sam, you really have to go now. I told Jessica to be here at 14h00."

"Why don’t you just dump her?" The woman asked.

"I will, my love," he replied.

Tears streamed down my eyes. Hatred filled my heart. Never would I love him again.

He lay on his stomach. The crimson sheets lay just above his waste so his back was open and vulnerable as was everything from the waist up. The room was white and luminous. James never had a sense or style to know that white, and crimson did not go together, but it didn’t matter anyway. Every piece of furniture was cherry which gave the room its only bit of elegance. The floor was hardwood, making it more difficult for me to slip over to the bed in my sneakers.

I gripped the knife, and hesitated. This was it. This was what I had waited for for so long. More tears poured down. The knife lingered just above his neck.

"Go ahead and kill me," he rolled over, the knife grazed his neck, and blood trickled down, but he didn’t seem to care, "Go ahead and kill me, I beg you," He cried. I took a step back. My tears had stopped. "Please Jessica, if it makes you happy, kill me . . . " He snatched the knife and put it to his neck. "I’ll save you the trouble. Good-bye . . . remember that I did always love you." The knife sunk in and his body went limp. Blood gushed down his neck, soaking into his pillow. The tears started again.

"No, you can’t die!" I screamed, "I love you . . . why?" My fists clenched together and I felt myself hit the floor. A stabbing pain flooded my hand. The thorns pierced my skin . . .

I was breathing hard, gasping for breath. "Are you ok?" James asked, rolling over in bed.

Sweat dripped down my back, my hair was damp, and the room seemed warmer than ever. I looked at him and blinked, "Yeah, I’m fine . . . it . . . it was just a dream."

"Are you sure?"

I kissed his lips, and smiled, "I’m fine. Go back to sleep."

A stabbing pain went through my hand. "I love you . . . no matter what," He whispered and within a moment I could hear him softly snoring. I glanced at my hand. Blood trickled down my wrist. I opened my fist and one, last, crimson rose fell to the floor of our beautiful Dutch colonial.I wasn’t cold, but another chill shot through my body.