|Bed Of Rose's
Author: ScorpionsAngel2009 PM
A song fic depicting the story of a young man and an older woman. She finds him in the street and takes him in.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Emmett & Rosalie - Words: 865 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 1 - Published: 06-20-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7102577
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
-1Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by melanieintn
Bed of Rose's
Life, I found, was much more difficult as young adults than it was when I was a child. I had no parents since I was a very young child. I had gone from orphanages to foster homes back to orphanages my whole life. Now I was too old to be in the system, so I was on my own.
I was lonely and hungry, living on the streets and getting by the best way that I could. I begged for money from people I didn't know. That was how I met my Rose.
She was called a scarlet woman by people. People, who would go to church, but left me in the street to go hungry. With no parents of my own, I never had a home. An eighteen year-old boy had to eat.
She found me outside one Sunday morning; I was begging money from a man I didn't know, and she took me in.
"So what's your name, sweetie?" she asked.
"Emmett McCarty," I answered quietly.
"So, tell me how it is that I found you begging for money out there in the street," she said.
"Well, I guess that's because I have no parents and no home to go to. I've been passed around from here to there; nobody ever wanted to keep me, and now I'm too old for the foster care system," I explained with my head hung low.
"I see. I'm sorry, honey, but that's just how life is sometimes. I didn't exactly intend to live the life I do either, but you got to do what you got to do to survive," she said, looking at me with her soft blue eyes.
"Yes ma'am, I guess we do," I replied.
"Well, Emmett, you can call me Rose; and welcome home, for as long as you want it," she said with a smile.
She took me in and wiped away my childhood; she was a woman of the streets, this lady Rose. It was then we formed a bond, me and Rose. It was a bond that would last a lifetime.
After she showed me how wonderful two people could be together, she left me almost speechless. "Wow, that was awesome, Rose. I have never felt those kinds of things before; thank you," I told her, not knowing what else to say.
That was the first time I had ever been with a woman. I think I fell in love with her then.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, honey," she replied with a smile.
I worked for her, and she took care of me in all the ways a man needed and could want. She made me happy, and I did my best to make her happy too.
This bed of Rose's that I lay on, where I was taught to be a man. This bed of Rose's, where I was living, was the only kind of life I understood.
She was a beautiful woman, just thirty-five; who was spoken to in town by very few. She managed a late evening's business, like most of the town wished they could do.
I didn't really understand how the people could treat her so badly. She was only doing what she had to, to survive.
I learned all the things that a man should know from a woman not approved of, I suppose.
We lived together a long time. She died knowing I really loved her; off of life's bramble bush, I picked a Rose.
The first time I saw young Emmett McCarty on the street, he was begging money from a man.
I saw how the man looked at him with disgust, and it angered me. These people who went to church and called themselves Christians, but would leave a young man in the street to beg and plead for food and money.
My heart went out to him, and I took him in. I could tell he had not had a good life. When he told me his story, my heart broke for him. I knew what he was missing and figured we could comfort each other.
I called him into my house. There he had stayed for many years, working and taking care of me; and I took care of him. When I got old, he stayed beside me; he loved me, even though my beauty and youth were gone. I couldn't have loved him more; I never regretted taking him in.
When it was time for me to go; I died knowing he truly loved me.
A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read my one-shot, please leave me a review. Check out the pics and music at http:/ /scorpionsangel2009 .blogspot .com/p/bed-of-roses .html