As a little girl, a pretty flower bewitched me. It was attractive and irresistible; I had to touch it. I held it softly and caressed the silk petals.
It will be mine, I thought. It was so lovely; it would make mom happy. I saw it in her hair, complementing her rosy cheeks and red lips. She would tell everyone that I gave it to her.
People would know me as the rose petal that beautifies all.
I yanked the rose free. Pain shot up my thumb. Blood dripped on my shirt.
What a cunning vampire you are, you wicked rose.