Hard liquor, sex, cigarettes, success, and dread were what defined Roseline Calyson's life after she'd broken from her old life of no love and neglect at only the age of six. To put it simply, Rose's entire life had been one without guidance or love, and as soon as she was a teenager, she'd become the person she'd be for the rest of her existence before and beyond death.
She was born as a child that was never meant to be created, but due to her mother, Martha Calyson's, sexual appetite for anything but protected sex, she had been birthed in the summer of 1985. Martha had been a party animal that lived for sex, drugs, alcohol, and rock and roll, so Rose's father could've very well been some random rock star that had fucked her backstage or in an orgy at some point.
However, by the time it had been clear that she was pregnant, said supposed mystery rock star had already been long gone and sticking his rod in elsewhere. Martha had never wanted a child, but to avoid losing her version of "fun," she decided against abortion.
Rose had been born a healthy baby, which had been shocking due to the carelessness of her mother during the pregnancy. She had drank, smoked, and snorted hundreds of lines in the months of carrying her unborn daughter, even persistently having engaged in rough sex with any man she had managed to woo as a clear statement that she had no care for the being she was carrying.
It had been an absolute miracle that Rose came out unscathed, but in the years that followed it became very clear that Rose wasn't completely healthy in the head. She had never been given a name by her mother, and had ended up naming herself after a random model she had found in one of her mom's many magazines; Roseline Pierra.
By age three, Rose had already seen things that no kid should and had engaged in things kids shouldn't. She'd walked in on her mother engaging with a stranger over twenty times, and after the second time, having no guidance and a mom that wanted nothing to do with her, had watched with curiosity.
It had been remarkable that Rose had even survived her first years of life, having only been fed and cared for by Martha to shut her up after countless times of yelling at her daughter to shut up. Martha had very well thought about doing the unthinkable to her daughter on many occasions, but had never had the guts to actually do it.
Not only that, but the sheer idea of her even losing her freedom to a "bratty child" hadn't even an option, so she had just sparingly cared for her child while continuing to live her version of a carefree life.
Rose had learned how to talk through television and her mother's vulgar vocabulary, swearing and talking as if she were a rebel by age five, and at the age of six, had to learn how to care for herself.
In the winter of 1991, tragedy had struck and Martha's health started to plummet. Rose hadn't known, but her mother had been forsaken by her own addiction, catching AIDS from a random stranger she had slept with over the years.
Despite her mother never showing her any care or love, Rose had still comforted and attempted to love her mother in her final days, only to have been met with nothing but cold and careless comments in return. Being a child and so young, Rose had just seeked her mother's love and acceptance, but it still had never been earned up to Martha's passing two weeks later on Christmas eve.
Upon the discovery of her deceased mother, Rose had still wept, and with no one to call or anywhere to go, she had just stayed by her mother's side, up until she had had no choice but to seek something to satisfy her empty grumbling belly. Despite her only mother having never taught her anything about the world, Rose had found her way to help rather easily.
Not far from her home had there been a homeless shelter, so she had walked there in only her rags for clothes and feet bare in the ice cold snow. Upon arrival, the mere sight of a six year old in tattered clothing and no shoes had caught the attention of the staff, and upon telling them of her mother's passing, she had been taken in.
She had been given a coat and socks to warm up while the shelter had alerted police of the corpse residing in Rose's old home, wanting to be sure she hadn't been lying for free food and shelter. Once it had been proven that Rose hadn't lied, she had been relieved of any suspicion and taken in.
Rose had been given care by the shelter up until she had been transferred to a local orphanage, where she was raised and cared for until she had either been adopted or of proper age to leave. Life in the orphanage had proved as a new start for Rose, but it had been far from simple.
Her first challenge had been adapting to her new home and becoming social with the others her age, the clarity of her mother's lack of parenting and guidance having shown through her behavior and unnatural vocabulary of vulgarity. To combat this, Rose had been put through a program within the orphanage that helped to teach her proper vocabulary and manners.
This had taken a few months, and, in that time, Rose had finally begun life as a child her age, making friends and enrolling in school rather quickly. School had been the turning point for the better in Rose's short life, being a natural social butterfly and loving the thought of learning new things.
She had excelled in everything she learned and had flown through her school years with bright grades, and a mind as bright as the spectra of the many colors of a rainbow. Every one of her teachers loved her dearly, but the same couldn't have been said for the many couples who had had interest in adopting her, immediately turning her away after reading of her mother.
They all had seen her as a child of a slut, and because of her mother, had been labeled one as well. Rose had been hurt by it at first, but eventually grew numb to it, continuing her life and excelling everything handed to her in life.
Then came the day when she had officially become a woman, the sight of a barrage of blood at her feet catching her off guard during an evening shower. A deathly scream had alerted the staff to the bathroom, finding Rose under the stream of hot water as pale as a ghost and looking as if she'd just experienced the death of a loved one.
The staff had been confused until they had seen the crimson stream at her feet, swirling down the drain. The main issue had been that Rose had been an early bloomer and had never been taught anything about puberty up to that point. The normal age when most of the orphans had learned anything in relation to puberty had been around the age of 11 or 12; Rose had been ten at the time.
She had been quickly informed that she hadn't injured herself, nor had there been anything wrong with her at all by one of the female staff she had been very close to; a late-twenties brunette named Rebecca Brown.
Rebecca had been there for Rose since the start and had been the person Rose could say had felt like a true mother to her. She had been the one who had taught her how to be a child and talk like a child, as much as had made Rose into the aspiring scholar she had become over the years. The two had been inseparable and acted like a mother and daughter to the point of adoption not even being needed anymore to be happy.
However, what Rose had told Rebecca had been nothing short of sad, haunting, and nothing she could've ever been prepared to hear; Rose hadn't been alerted by the blood, but the truth that came with the fact that she was now growing into a woman.
Puberty meant that she had now entered the stages of growing into an adult, and that meant that she'd become on the verge of becoming sexually active and attracted to the opposite sex in those coming years.