Rosie was young but not too young to know what love was. She loved him from the very first day she met him. It was junior year, she remembered exactly what she wore that day because in her eyes it was something special, he was something special. It was at her parent’s annual Christmas party and she was of course decked out in her best, a beautiful floor length red dress, silver stilettos, and red lipstick, her favorite shade. The halls and rooms where decorated with wonderful decorations of red and green, it was her favorite time of the year. When she walked down the stairs all eyes were on her but the only person she focused on was him, she locked her eyes on him and knew right then he would make an impact on her life, good or bad. He wore all black except for a red bow tie that coincidentally matched her dress perfectly, she was enthralled. He made his way towards her and introduced himself, Josh, a name that would stick in the back of her mind forever. They spent the whole evening together, and when the clock struck midnight the party started to die down. Even though she couldn’t get enough of his voice she knew he was leaving soon and had to find an urge to say goodbye. As he walked out the door he turned around and kissed her, it was perfect, like nothing she could have imagined. She left a crimson stain on his lips that stayed for a few days; it was a memory of the perfect night with the perfect girl that he wouldn’t be able to keep off his mind. They dated all through junior year and on to senior year, countless memories that they would never forget, they became an important part of each other’s lives. Every month on the 20th they wore red because it was the day they met and a day they always grasped onto. But the summer before college was a big change in their lives. Every night they fought about unimportant things and there was constant yelling, one night he took it too far. He hit her over and over again leaving red bruises all over her body; she couldn’t stop him or protect her frail body so she just laid there and when he finally stopped he ran, leaving her behind. She finally found the courage and strength in her body to get up and slowly walk home; she was weak and needed help. Days, weeks, and months passed and she never spoke of or to him ever again and her love turned into hatred, a feeling that she didn’t even know she was capable of. Every month on the 20th she continued the tradition of wearing red but out of hate, not love.
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