She smiled as she watched the delicate snowflakes descend like fallen angels to the Earth, each so beautifully carved. They reminded her that everyone was unique, that she was unique, not a freak. She shuddered slightly as the memories came back to her. Memories of a past she wished to forget and maybe she would. She pulled back the sleeves of her jacket that covered the markings on her left wrist. Raising a pale finger, she stroked it hesitantly, and closing her eyes, let her memories engulf her. Maybe all this was a beautiful dream and when she would reopen her eyes, she'd be back in the hell. Cold dread took over her as she remembered those haunted days of her life…

Rose Jones, that had been her name, the perfect daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who had been successful businesspeople. Her mother had been an epitome of love and her father that of gentleness. It had been the perfect life, but in that mirage, little Rose had forgotten that life could never be perfect. It all began with her mother's death in a plane crash. Rose had been sixteen then. A little too matured for her age, she had never broken down. She had stood strong to support her father, who swiftly descended into the bottomless abyss of depression. His business began to slip and he had turned to alcohol. He'd often be away for days and when he would come back, he'd beat his daughter up. Rose started to confine her life to her books and the constant beatings of her father. She cut all ties with her friends and to lock herself, simply staring at her reflection in the mirror. Those books had become an escape route to her, an escape route from reality, for they allowed her to dream of becoming a notable authoress, of fascinating the world with her stories.

When the time came for her to decide which field she would choose, Rose put forward her desire to pursue her career as an authoress, but her father outright forbid her from doing anything 'preposterous'. He wanted her to become an engineer and when she refused, he beat her up, calling her a worthless piece of trash and an ungrateful daughter. He'd said that they were near bankruptcy because he had spent too much in educating her and with this, he had stormed out of the house in a drunken rage. That night, Rose did something she had never done before, she had cried. She had felt the guilt of being a burden, for being the reason behind her father's miserable state. It had clawed at her heart and ripped it apart. She resolved to make her father proud of her and decided to study engineering, even if it meant killing all her dreams. But she had forgotten that Mathematics had never been her strong point.

The following day, she had given the entrance exam for the engineering college in her town, and somehow managed to get selected. When she started attending the classes, things worsened. She could comprehend nothing of what was taught and she had no friends within the college or outside. The buys avoided her and girls made fun of her. Rose had never spoken a word in the campus and without anyone to turn to; she had been more than willing to forget how to speak.

Her teachers humiliated her for her bad performance and she was constantly punished for writing poetry during classes. She listened to all of it, but never spoke a word of defense, until people started to think her to be dumb. At home, she was beaten up for her deteriorating performance in the classes. She grew tired of it all and turned to pain to anchor herself in the living world: she started to cut.

Things became worse when she realized that she had a crush on the college heart-throb, Tom Andrews. He was a playboy and a great athlete. No one knew how, but he managed to discover this terrible secret and on the prodding of his girlfriend, decided to humiliate Rose. And so, he stole her journal from her bag, when she had gone out for a moment. When she had come back, she was greeted with sneering girls and jeering boys. She had then spotted her journal in Tom's hands and for a moment, everything stopped. Then, snatching away the journal, she had run out of the college building, into an adjoining chapel, where she had cried. Coming to a decision, she wiped her tears and decided to end it all. She's taken a blade from her bag with trembling fingers and…

Rose looked up again at the snowflakes and then at her hands, smiling at the diamond engraved silver band on her finger. She loved the next part of the story…

…she'd been about to cut, when a pair of strong masculine arms turned her around to face him. She had first seen the deep blue eyes and then her brain had registered exactly who she had been looking at. She still remembered the first words Alex Martin, the extremely good looking topper of her class, had spoken to her:

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

She had stared at him blankly and without replying, had turned back to the task at hand.

"I'm not like Tom, Rose," he'd said gently, startling her into dropping the blade. Her haunted gray eyes had searched his blue ones for any sign of ridicule, but had found none. He had been the first person in several years to have spoken to her so gently. He had not called her a freak but had used her name. His voice like music to her ears.

"You said my name," she had whispered. Those were the first words she had said to anyone for a long time. It must have startled him, to have heard her voice, because he had sat there gaping at her. Rose had laughed at his expression and he had soon joined her. That day, Alex and Rose had sat together for hours in the chapel, talking about their lives. She still found it ironical, as to how comfortable she had been with a total stranger. Alex had then helped write her first book, and now she was one of the most famous authoresses in the world.

She was brought back to the present as a three-year-old came running to her shouting, "Ma! Dad is home!"

Rose smiled at Flora, her daughter and scooped her up into her arms and walked to the gate, where a black, sleek Audi was being driven in. As they watched, a tall, handsome man with blue eyes and brown hair emerged from it carrying gifts for his daughter.

Kissing Flora on her cheek, he handed the gifts to her. Rose let Flora down and the child immediately ran to the house to open the presents.

'Why, Mrs. Martin, did you miss me?' asked Alex Martin with an amused smile playing at his lips. Rose put her arms round his neck and standing on her toes, kissed him.

'Does that answer your question?' she asked as they walked to the house. He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Meanwhile, the snowflakes continued to fall from the heavens above.

A.N---I wrote this out two years ago...i wanted to upload it but I didn't find it until today...please tell me whether you liked it or not!