Black Rose

A Story by sugarandsap

I wrote this three years ago for a class assignment, I haven't revised it just posting it knowing I could write it better now. The assignment was to be 10 pages double-spaced so it is rushed.

I stare into the dust-covered mirror that hangs crookedly on the dull yellow wallpaper that wraps around the perimeter of my rented room. My dark hair falls past my black-laced bra and hangs in loose curls. My natural hair. I stare into my brown eyes and I feel nothing. My pupils are dilated and my full lips are thinned in a straight line across my face. My mascara’s smudged and my red lipstick has faded. , I look at my phone and think about calling my mom, telling her I’ve made a mistake and I want to come home. My fingers rest on the keypad but I know my ego won’t allow me to dial. I promised myself I’d start a new life here, to create a new me. Los Angeles, the city of Angels. I press the off-screen on my phone and tuck it into the pocket of my denim shorts that cut high and messy. I wipe my eyes and reapply my K-mart lipstick. My white shirt hangs low but I don’t fix it. I walk to the edge of the bed and place my black boots on each foot and reach for my leather jacket. I grab the motel key with the number 6 attached to it and push it into my side pocket. I kneel down and open the drawer of the cheap dresser that supports the weight of an outdated television and picks up the steel box inside and place it on the chipped wood. I begin to enter my safe code. 71295. My birthday. I reach my hand inside and it scrapes against the uncomfortable velcro-like material that dresses the inside of the box. My hand wraps around the only object that rests in the safe and I pull out the rolled bills that are kept together with a pink hair tie. The only money I have. I take out a twenty and put the rest back where it belongs, pressing the lock button and pulling at the handle twice just to be safe. I open the heavy wooden door and the California sun hits my face, I twist the key and pull on the handle. The two sweaty overweight men that sit in front of their attached rooms playing cards all day, begin to whistle and call me in their direction. I want to turn around and say something but I’m scared and I don’t have the security here to make me feel protected. I let them stare and call out for me while I begin to walk at a faster pace along the road until the rundown motel is out of my view. I walk down the streets of Venice and stare at the palm trees that sway in the cool breeze and I remember why I’m here. Suddenly I’m not so sad anymore. I walk down the boardwalk along the beach and analyze each bar I see and pick the cheapest looking one, knowing that they won’t ID me. It’s 12 pm and some might say it’s too early for a drink but I’m tired and scared and I want the pain to go away. The man at the door is tall and muscular with tattoos covering both arms, he wears a black bandana and a leather vest and smiles when he sees me. “Go on in sweetheart,” he says with a wink and I do just that. The small space is in dull light and rough looking like I expected. I walk to the bar counter and sit on a tall stool, I look around the room and the number of men dominates the number of women. The women look soft next to the canvas of the men. They wear short skirts and cropped shirts and they dance for the men who look rough, with beards and tattoos. They all wear leather vests with stitching of an angel on the back, she looks sad and over-sexualized. A tall blonde, who leaves little to the imagination, dances for a man and I watch as she smiles and flips her hair and he laughs and applauds her. She suddenly is made aware of my staring and winks at me., I give her a small smile and turn back to the bar ordering a rum and coke. I stare at my phone and begin to delete the messages that link me to my past. After two more drinks I feel a slight buzz and need to get air, I step off the stool and stumble outside. The man at the door grabs my hand and helps me out and I laugh like a child. I walk around to the back of the bar and notice a pure black motorcycle sitting by itself and I think it’s beautiful. My mind tells my hand to touch it so I do. I run my shaking fingers across the front of the bike and admire the same angel I saw on the back of the jackets. She’s painted on the side of the bike and I outline her wings gently with my finger. “You like her?” I hear a husky voice ask from behind me and I quickly take my fingers off of the angel and turn his way. A tall man stands in front of me, he looks to be in his late twenties with blue eyes and long brown hair slicked back with gel. He holds a cigarette in his mouth that he secures with his teeth and he’s grinning at me. “The angel is beautiful but she looks sad,” I say and I know that if I didn’t have alcohol running through my veins I wouldn’t have said those words. He looks surprised by my answer, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me until I begin to feel uncomfortable. “The bike’s nice too,” I say awkwardly and he laughs. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and throws it on the ground, I watch as the burning embers begin to turn to ash and don’t look up until he asks me if I’d like to go for a ride.

***

I’ve known Kyle for a month now and haven’t known myself for four weeks. He’s bad and I don’t want to be good. He lives everyday for the next and I live everyday for the end. He’s not happy but he’s not sad and I’m not quite sure what I am. I decide to make a new life for myself because I am not satisfied with the one I’ve been given. I am no longer Avery, I am no longer from New York and I am no longer nineteen years old. I tell him my name is Rose, that I was born here and I’m twenty-three. He’s a broken man and I don’t want to fix him. I cannot fix someone who was never whole to begin with. He is part of a motorcycle club, The Blue Angels, he calls them family and I think it’s nice. We sit in the same bar where I met him; the men are all wearing leather jackets, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. They’re loud and they’re wild but they have a sort of freedom that I long for. I have come to know the women who belong to the men. They are sweet and nice and treat me like family. They love their men and they love the lifestyle. We cater to the men, we belong to the men, Kyle is not mine but I am his. The music plays loud and the girls begin to dance. Kyle sits on his chair with a cigarette in his mouth and a beer in his hand and nods for me to join the women and I do. We laugh drunkenly as we dance and grind in the dull light of the bar. I walk slowly to Kyle and move my hips to the music. My black skirt rising up and my tank top hanging low. He grins and pulls me onto his lap. I like seeing him smile knowing that I have made him happy. He kisses me hard and aggressive but I don’t mind. He calls me his flower and I smile, he hands me the cigarette and we pass it back and forth between our lips. I wash down the dry taste with cold sips of beer and wet kisses. At night we ride the roads with no true destination. We ride until I see stars in my eyes, I laugh and cry and sing when I sit on the back of the bike. I am a passenger to Kyle and a visionary to myself. The wind throws my long hair black and makes me feel alive, more alive than I have ever felt. The night is my only friend, the lights aren’t bright enough to illuminate my soul for others to see but I feel it, deep down. I allow the darkness to wrap me in its arms and fill me with the feelings of hope and freedom that I have longed for. Kyle believes I belong to him but I believe I belong to the night. To the stars that fill my eyes, to the breeze that chills my soul, to the darkness that enters my mind and to the heavens that are clouded by a mask of black.

***

It has been six months since I’ve met Kyle and I wake in my motel with his tattooed arm resting across my chest. I smile at the softness of his face when he allows sleep to take away his pain. I lift his arm gently and step off the bed slowly and make my way to the washroom, my eyeliner is smudged, my lipstick smeared and my hair is knotted and I smile. My shower is short and cold; I wash my face and brush my wet hair, wrapping a towel around my body and walk out the bathroom door. Kyle sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hand talking on the phone, he’s angry and is yelling at the person on the other line. When he is done he stands up and throws his phone hard against the yellow wall, leaving a small dent in the paper. He puts his hands on the top of his head and runs his fingers hard through his gelled hair. “Babe what’s wrong?” He looks up at me with flushed cheeks and I begin to get nervous. He sits back on the edge of the bed and I do the same, placing my hand on his knee. “It’s Shane, he wants the money I owe him and I don’t have it.” I look at him confused and he continues “He sells the club our drugs and I haven’t paid him for his last drop off.” I remove my hand from his knee and stare at the floor. I know that the club is in the drug business and I know that they move shipments of cocaine to other gangs in different charters but I didn’t think the fault would lie in his hands.

“Why you? Why do you have to pay him?”

“I’m the one who ordered the last shipment for a friend and the club didn’t agree to it so I need to come up with the money.” I want to ask him why his friend hasn’t paid but I choose not to frustrate him more. I quickly stand up and make my way to the safe, punching in the numbers and I take out all the money I have left. “I have Nine hundred maybe a bit more left, you can take it.” He looks up at me and I can tell by the way his eyes lower that it won’t be enough. I bow my head and my eyes begin to water.

“How much do you need Kyle?”

“I got half a kilo… so around seven thousand.” I stand in shock and he won’t look up at me. Without thinking I allow my hand to slap him hard across his cheek and I immediately regret it. He stands up quick with a red face and angry eyes and grabs me by the neck, my backs to the wall and I start to have trouble breathing as his grip tightens. “Don’t you ever do that again you b***h.” He spits his words with such venom and my eyes begin to water and I can’t speak so I just nod my head. He lets go of my throat leaving me to fall to the floor gasping for air. I’m on all fours as I stare at the dirty carpet and begin to cry while trying to catch my breath. Kyle sits next to me and lifts me onto his lap like a child and I cry into his shoulder. He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry my pretty flower, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I didn’t mean to.” But he did mean to. I sit in his arms because I’m too afraid to move, so I let him touch me when I don’t want to be touched and I let him kiss me when I don’t want to be kissed and I let him hold me when I don’t want to stay. We sit like this for a while and my eyes become dry while my face is still puffy and red, it hurts to speak and I know that my neck will be bruised in the morning. The towel is loosely wrapped around my body and my hair is beginning to dry. He tells me to get ready, that we’re going to the bar and I do as he says, twisting my hair into a bun as I slip into my tight black dress, my leather jacket, and black boots. He puts his plaid shirt on and his leather jacket over it, with his blue jeans and white shoes. He takes the money that sits on the dresser and puts it into his pocket and kisses my forehead before walking out the door. I stare at the angel that is stitched to the black leather and somehow she looks sadder than before. We get to the bar and the men sit at the table waiting for our arrival. The girls notice my swollen eyes and red neck but choose to say nothing. Kyle tells the men what he owes and they offer to pay half, leaving him with a debt of three thousand dollars. We sit around the table and the club decides that the fastest way to get the money would be to hold up the local liquor store and take the cash from the register. Suddenly I feel like I’m going to be sick and I rush to the washroom. Candy, one of the girls, follows me in and holds my hair as I lean over the dirty toilet. Once I’m done I begin to cry hard and she wipes at the corners of my mouth with toilet paper and tells me it will be okay. “They’ve done this before, sweetie, it’s a quick in and out. No one gets hurt and no one gets caught.” I look up and I can see the sympathy in her eyes, which makes me cry harder, and she holds me in her arms until I can finally pull myself together. She stands up and helps me to my feet; she runs her fingers along my throat and shakes her head slightly. “It gets easier,” she says with an unconvincing smile and I try to return it but I can’t. We walk out of the washroom and Kyle is quick to pull me aside. He takes me to the corner of the bar and I can feel the eyes of the group on us and I begin to feel nervous. “I need your help baby.” He rubs my shoulder and continues, “You need to come with me for the cash grab, I need you to distract the employee in order for this to work,” he says with a half smile but I manage to keep a straight face. “And if I don’t?” I say with little confidence and no eye contact. He places his fingers under my chin, rubbing his thumb gently against my sore neck and raises my head so that my eyes meet his. “You don’t want to say no, flower,” He says with such authority behind his voice that I can only manage to whisper a soft “Okay.” He smiles and takes my hand in his and leads me back to the group. “We’re doing it!” he says with an excited tone and the group begins to howl and applaud as they cheer. They act as though we just announced our commitment to an engagement not our commitment to a felony. Kyle grabs my shoulder and pulls me close to his body and I give him a small smile when he whispers in my ear. “Stay strong, flower, and don’t let your petals fall.” I look down at my shaking hands and think about how my pedals have not fallen, they have instead been pulled and ripped and thrown to the ground by the hand of Kyle.

***

It’s been two days since the plan has been made and we sit in my motel room and dress ourselves appropriately for the task. Kyle wears a black hoodie, with blue jeans and his white shoes. He has a black bandana that covers the bottom half of his face so only his blue eyes are to be seen. I dress in a short skirt and reach for my white t-shirt but instead I’m handed a very low cut top that I don’t recognize. I look at him confused “It’s one of the girls tops, you got to show a little skin if you want to distract him.” I grab the top and put it on, it shows too much cleavage and the skirts too short and I hate the way I see myself when I look in the mirror. Kyle reaches into his backpack and pulls out a matte black gun and I feel the lump that invades my throat before I start to cry. “It’s just to scare him. No one will get hurt,” He reassures me as he places the gun in the waistband of his pants. “We’ll be in and out in no time, okay?” I nod my head and excuse myself to the washroom, when I get in I turn on the faucet and the shower head and begin to dial my mother’s number. The phone rings a few times before it goes to voicemail and when I hear my moms voice come through the phone and I begin to cry. The beep sounds and I start to leave a message. “Mom, I made a mistake and I’m scared, mommy, I’m so scared,” I say through exaggerated breaths “I don’t know what to do. I miss you and I miss my old life and I’m so sorry for leaving mom, you have to know th-” Before I can finish my message an electronic voice comes through the phone informing me I don’t have enough minutes to leave the voicemail. I throw the phone hard against the wall and let out a frustrated scream but I know the sound of the running water will drain it out. I put my head in my hands and I hear Kyle knock on the door telling me it’s time to leave. I turn both faucets off and stare at myself in the mirror as I wipe away my mascara and stare at my bruised neck that has turned from a pale yellow to a dark blue. I know it shouldn’t bring me a sense of comfort but it does. I threaten to leave but I know I never could. I crave the lifestyle, the unexpected and thrill of the road. I crave the thrill of it all.

We arrive at the liquor store and Kyle checks to see that there is only one man working. He sends me in first and instructs me to distract the young worker and I do as I’m told. I walk through the doors and make my way to the back of the store, pretending to grab a case of beer that is out of my reach. The man quickly notices and is happy to help me. He grabs the case and his eyes rest on my neck before they make their way down to my chest. Kyle walks in shortly after when the man’s back is facing the entrance, he retrieves the gun and begins to scream violently. All of a sudden a rush of adrenaline courses through me and excitement fills my bones. I feel guilty for finding joy in this as the man turns slowly and Kyle grabs him by his shirt. I can hear the tear of the fabric as he drags the man to the cash register and places the gun to his head. He screams for me to exit the store and I do as I’m instructed. I walk out the metal doors and my ears begin to ring and I know I should cry or scream or yell for help but I don’t want to. It’s been so long since someone made me different. I wait next to Kyle’s bike and I hear a gunshot and see him running out of the store. Red liquid covers his white shoes and he’s screaming at me but I can’t hear him as I stand in complete shock. He stares at me with wide eyes “It was an accident, I swear.” And I believe him. He hands me the bag of money and starts the engine and soon we are riding off into the night. I sit on the back of the bike as I stare up at the dark sky, Kyle is driving faster than normal and I am unusually calm. He places his hand softly on my knee and I know everything will be alright. I know Shane will get his money, I know the club will solve this problem and I know I won’t leave him. I place my hand on the back of his leather jacket and trace the stitching of the angel with my finger. Los Angeles. The city of angels. The land of Gods and Monsters. I am an angel living in a realm of sin and redemption. We live in constant error and guilt. We live for the short days and the long nights. We live for each other. He lives for the road and I live for the thrill. Los Angeles the city of angels, sad and over-sexualized. Wings broken. Angels disguised by a mask of insanity and a longing for freedom. I’m not certain if there is a God and I don’t know if he will forgive me for what I have done but in a land of purity and sin I chose the man who made me feel alive. I chose the man who kissed my scars then dug them deeper. I chose the man who was violent and angry. I chose the man who reflected my darkest secrets and twisted fantasies. I chose the monster when I had the choice of a God. But for now I will ride in the darkness of the night as I allow my sad eyes to be filled with the light of a thousand stars. As I allow the moon to caress my body and hold me tight. I wonder if the black of the night covers the heavens because that is when the monsters arise and God is put to shame. I allow myself to smile and whisper a sad sorry to whoever is listening. I raise my hands high in the air as I let the night take away my sorrow. I am the free will that decides my final fate. I am a girl whose mistakes will define her and who wallows alone at night in the garden of evil, wishing for another life. I am lost. I am Avery. I am Rose. I am the sad-eyed angel stitched across Kyle’s back. I am crazy but i am free.

© 2017 sugarandsap

Author's Note

ignore grammar, also my writing has improved a lot since this, I try to write more mature now opposed to a sort of immature approach. This was my first written short story.