• "But you can't!" Rosha cried. Rosha was a maiden to a poor family yet was very beautiful, at the age of 19. You know how Helen from Troy had the face to launch 1000 ships? Rosha had the face to launch 1,000,000 airplanes, but since this was the 1800's there was no such thing, but continuing. Rosha had found out she was being married off to the prince of Rome. Rosha loved someone else. A man named Milo, who had average looks, but he was great with hands. In the right AND wrong way. Rosha and Milo had talked to one another for quite awhile and that built a relationship, and a loving relationship at that. And Rosha did not want to give that up.
    "I am sorry but the family needs the money!" Rosha's father replied.
    "I don't care about the money, I want to marry Milo!" Rosha snapped.
    "But why not marry the wonderful prince?" father replied. He's trying to sugar coat it! Rosha thought.
    "And you tell me now?" Rosha demanded. Her father just ran off and told them how beautiful she was, and somehow they believed him. Not waiting for his answer she stormed away. She shoved open the door out into the dirty peasant streets of Rome. Rosha hurried to her loves home.

    Later...

    Rosha rapped the door to Milo's home. Milo still lived with his mother but that was only because his mother was ill. He's so sweet, Rosha thought. Milo answered.
    "Oh Rosha you look terrible! Come inside!" Milo said. Rosha felt faint at the fact that she'd never see Milo again. She fell into his arms, still in shock.
    "What's wrong?" Milo asked, guiding Rosha to a chair at the kitchen table.
    "I'm going into a forced marriage! But I don't want to loose you Milo! My heart feels ripped in two!" Rosha sobbed. Hot tears covered her peasant dress. Milo hugged her.
    "You can always run away," Milo whispered in Rosha's ear. Rosha lifted her head and stared at him with wide eyes. Milo never suggested something so...bad.
    "I'll run away with you!" Milo suggested.
    "But what about your mother?" Rosha asked worryingly.
    "We can bring her with!"
    "But are you sure you want your mother in our love life?"
    "Are you sure you want to live without me?"
    Rosha stared at her feet. Then she gave a brisk nod and said, "Ok, lets go."
    After that it was silent chaos. There was a bunch of shuffling to get packed and ready. Once we left the door, Rosha's father came running down the street shouting her name.
    "RUN!" Rosha screamed. Milo pulled on her arm and hauled her down the stone street. Rosha's father spotted her and ran after the couple.
    "HE'S CATCHING UP WITH US!" Rosha cried. Milo began to stumble then fell, with all the packed weight on his back, that did help either. Rosha fell on top of him. Rosha's father grabbed her wrist and hauled her backward. That's when Rosha noticed the Prince's soldiers were grabbed Milo and hauling him away as well.
    "MILO!" Rosha cried agonizingly.
    "ROSHA!" Milo cried in the same tone.

    Later...

    Rosha sniffed as one of the Prince's maids were tightening the corset on her for the wedding. Rosha felt some breath leave her body then took more gasps to keep from fainting.
    "Do not worry sweetie," the maid said, wiping a tear that crossed Rosha's face.
    "But ... I ... don't ... want ... to ... marry ... someone ... I ... don't ... love," Rosha puffed. The maid lightened the ties on the corset and Rosha could breathe again. After getting dressed in a puffy white dress, she stepped down the isle of the most fanciest church of all.
    When she reached the end to stand next to the Prince, she stared straight ahead, wondering what the soldiers did with Milo.
    "Oh my dearest do not cry. I have brought you a gift," the Prince murmured in her ear. Rosha gave him a weird look, as a man came out with a platter and a dome cover on it. Rosha turned to see it, to get a closer look.
    "You got me food for a gift?" Rosha demanded.
    "Not entirely," the Prince replied.
    The man got down on one knee and lifted the dome. Rosha gasped in horror.
    "It's more a gift to me then to you," the Prince said.
    There sat on the platter, the drained-of-life head of Milo.