Weeks pass by, and they drag. It’s torturous not seeing or having her. How is it that she makes me feel the slightest bit alive when I’ve felt dead for as long as I can remember? How can someone so broken even begin to help someone so fucked up? I’ve kept my distance, I haven’t called, stalked, or followed her. She needs this time, I need this time to wash her out of my system. A system that’s already so broken, one that craves her, with reasons I’m yet to still discover.
My phone rings, pulling me from the dead man on the ground—another hit, another life. He’s old, this one, older than I usually hit. He fought, he tried to bribe me at first, then he pleaded. They all plead or bribe in the end. More money, or offering up families or their children. As if these things mean anything to me, as if I should care about their loved ones. I can’t. That’s what makes me so good at what I do. It’s impossible for me to. That’s why the thought of wanting and craving Rose has me puzzled. I have craved one thing, and that’s only ever been sex. In my early twenties, soon even that became boring. Another hole, another goal was Jake’s motto. Never mine, they all blend into one. Each time it left me wondering why I even did it in the first place.
I look to the caller ID, then the dead man. He’s lying on the concrete, his head has blood pouring out and spreading in a neat pattern over the ground. He hit it hard after I shot him. More mess.
“Black… Black, is that you?” her voice rings from the end of my phone. I don’t talk, don’t know what to say. I could tell her I’m busy, that I have a body to dispose of, but I sit and wait to hear her voice again. Looking at the lifeless body beneath my feet. “Look, I don’t know how to ask this…” she pauses, her voice is shaky, “…I need to borrow some money. I promise I’ll pay you back. Black… Black, are you there? Please answer me.” She’s clearly distraught. I honestly never thought she’d ask, so I know she needs it. I also have an idea now of why she may need it.
“Come to mine in thirty,” I say, clicking the phone shut. I make a call, and they’re coming to collect the body. It’s done. I drop my card. He will know why the floor is covered in blood, and he will know it’s from me.
She’s there when I arrive home. She has on a short dress and her legs look like they should be wrapped around my waist right now, with her heels digging into my ass. Sunglasses cover her face. I don’t see the look she giving me. I’d like to know what she’s thinking. What her feelings are? Her feelings show so evidently in her eyes when I can see them. She stands taller, watching me from behind her glasses, I want to rip them off her face to see what she’s really not telling me. Except I walk straight past her and up into my house. She follows, her heels clicking with each step she takes behind me.
Hayden is sitting on my couch eating chips when I walk in. He looks to me and smiles, then looks to Rose and smiles brighter. I walk to him and pull the change from my pocket. He takes it and looks back at me.
“Go to the shop, get something to eat.” He nods his head eagerly and stops at Rose on the way out, who’s standing at the door.
“I’m glad you’re okay, miss,” he says and then runs out. I stand there, waiting for her to speak. Waiting for her to tell me something. My mind is on her and her body. All the things I could do with it. My cock is hard. It’s never hard anymore unless I think of her. I’m in a fucked up situation—royally fucked.
“You going to speak to me?” she asks. I walk forward, not liking the tone in her voice. I snatch the glasses from her eyes. She covers them and swears at me. I tilt her head up, noticing she has a black eye and has recently been crying.
“What happened?”
“As if you care!” She turns her nose up at me and faces away so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Rose… tell… me… what… happened?” I ask very slowly, dragging each word out. Her ice blue eyes turn back to me. Hard now.
“He happened! Everything in my life that’s fucked is because of him. He happened, dammit!” she screams. Her fists clench tight.
“The father?” She doesn’t look surprised.
“I saw you watching me.” Her face is mocking me. “I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore?” she teases.
“I do, but it’s best if we don’t.”
“God, you make me want to rip my hair out by the roots,” she exclaims.
“As long as I can rip it too.”
“You have issues, Black.” She shakes her head at me. Stepping closer. Just as she’s in reach, my hand flies up to touch her eye. I want to take it away, the pain he’s caused her.
“What do you need, Rose?” My voice is calm, but my body is anything but. The want for her is so strong. She starts to fidget, looking down at her hands. They clench and her fingernails dig into her hands.
“I need to borrow some money.”
“How much do you need?”
“I need a lot…” she hesitates. I give her a card from my pocket and a pen from the table. She looks at it. “This is a card, Black. What do you want me to do with it?” I look down and realize what I’ve given her. What a mistake it is. If she knew, knew what that card meant, she wouldn’t be giving me the odd look she’s giving me right now.
“Write down your amount.” She puts the end of the pen in her mouth, steps back and leans on the kitchen bench. She looks to me then back to the card, and she writes on it. The pen scratching the card, then she hesitantly holds it close to her.
“I don’t know if you have this. If you don’t please say so, so I can find the money somewhere else.” I hold my hand out. She doesn’t let the card go, just holds it to her chest.
“Rose, the card. Now.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, about to tear it up. So I snatch it from her hands and read the amount. I have more than enough, I have money hidden everywhere, the amount she needs is under my bed.
“Wait here, Rose. Don’t move…” She scrunches her brows. “Tell me you won’t move?”
“I won’t move,” she says. I walk away to my bedroom and pull the case from under my bed. It has more than what she needs. She can have it all.
She doesn’t move. She’s standing there, hands clenched with the pen still in one hand. She looks up at me as I enter, hope written on her face when she sees the bag in hand. I hold it out to her, but she doesn’t take it. She stands there looking from me to the bag.
“I have one condition. Well, possibly two.”
“Yes,” she says.
“When you take this money, the condition is I don’t want to see you again.” Her eyes go big, she looks hurt. “Second, I don’t want any of it back. It’s yours.” I shove the bag into her hands. Both hands come up and cuddle it like a baby. She looks from the bag to me.
“You can’t mean that,” she says, shaking her head.
“I do, Rose. Don’t contact me again.”
“Why?” She drops the bag to the ground, stepping over it to reach me. I stand still, watching her every move. I lean in close, my breath on her ear. I smell her, she smells divine. I could never get sick of her… ever.
“Black surrounds me, Rose. If you’re with me, near me, black will surround you, too. Then it will drown you. Taking everything you are with it.”
“I’m not scared of the black, Black. I’ve been there. I’ve come back, and you can too.”
I shake my head at her. She doesn’t understand. “Don’t contact me again, Rose.”
“Kiss me. Kiss me one last time, Liam. Do it,” she pleads, her lips inches from mine. She angers me, calling me that name. After I have told her repeatedly not to. I grab her neck, squeeze it hard, and pull her to me. Our lips are touching but not moving. Her breath heavy on mine, her hands linger on my side.
It’s like an earthquake. Your body rocks and the earth shakes beneath your feet. The smoothness of her lips, it takes over, hypnotizing you. That’s what she does to me, makes me forget. Makes me want to do anything, be anything for her. She gasps in my mouth. Opening, giving me access which I take. Like the greedy fucker I am, our tongues touch, mingling, creating a dance of their own. She touches me, goes against my rules, but I don’t stop her. Her hands touch my waist, she digs in. Showing me, telling me that she’s touching me. Daring me to make her stop. She manages to untuck my shirt, her hands now on my bare stomach. I pull away, our mouths still open. Breathing heavily.
“Leave,” I say. Her lips are swollen. Pinker than they were mere seconds ago. She doesn’t listen and I reach forward to touch her, to break her trance. She jumps when I touch her ribs. Her hand flying there, to protect.
“What’s wrong?” I ask and she shakes her head. She leans forward and picks up the bag. I grab her dress and lift it. Her ribs are bruised black and blue.
“How did this happen?”
“Don’t worry.” She shakes her head, stepping back, making me effectively drop her dress.
“He did that to you?” I ask and she shakes her head.
“Don’t worry, Black, you don’t want me. You don’t want me in your life. So don’t worry.” I see her fighting herself, holding back her emotions. But her bright blue eyes betray her. And I know right now is the only time I could rid myself of her. To make it hurt, to make her move on.
“You’re right. Leave now.”
“Thank you, Black,” she says, sliding her glasses back on. She turns and leaves, but just as she reaches the door, she turns her head back. “Black is his soul,” she says, and then walks off.