"The gardeners planted white roses when I specifically asked for red" you muttered looking at the rose between your fingers, "you can always paint the roses red" Xara you only true friend says, his curious black eyes looked up at you as his ear twitched, You smile softly and ruffle Xara's white hair "what an odd thing to say" The last thing you ever said to him. The next day he was found dead, body in the worse condition You grieved, days spent alone as you isolated yourself, the roses only remined you of him But that was it, your mind snapped, everyday "off with your head" you declared. One person dead means one rose being painted red in blood.