BLACK ROSE

Colourful rainbows

Alex. 

This might be the last time my backpack is filled with little plastic bags carrying small colourful rainbows. Any day could be my last and with the growing attention and popularity of our band, I'm running out of days. And even though I'm getting accustomed to the new feeling of accepting this new reality, I'm struggling to let go.

I always thought I'd one day celebrate a ten year anniversary at Cal's. Seven years have passed so fast, and the remaining three feel like they're just around the corner. Yet the corner is far away and the path to it is muddy and uneven.

If I want to follow my dream and succeed, I have to let go of this part of my life. But after seven years it has become a second home to me, the people have turned from strangers to acquaintances, and the way of life has been forever engraved in me. I'll never be able to let go, to forget and pretend this place didn't cause me the greatest pain in my life, but didn't also help me stand back on my feet. It's a tragic, devastating paradox – like the storm and rainbow in one.

I take the final turn on my bike, almost choking on the disgusting smell in the air. Out of my usual radius, I'm now starting to regret agreeing on helping Cal out. I'm low on dealers now, he said. I should've just said it's too far from my usual radius, but before I had thought it through I found myself nodding my head. I didn't do it for extra cash, I did for the deadly and addictive adrenaline. I could never leave knowing I never agreed on Cal's offers to earn some extra income. Now it has never been about the money for me, I've always taken the risks for the sake of adrenaline. A small part of me always secretly hoped one day I'd take a too big risk with no way out.

Residents of this area stare me down as I park my bike. I'm hesitant to leave my bike alone and consider somehow dragging it with me further into the alleyway. I ignore their stares as I stroll into the crowd of hungry junkies. I think of the weight, metaphorical and literal, the little colourful rainbows in my backpack hold.

"Who are you?" A woman around my mother's age approaches me. My eyes immediately land on her dreadlocks, way too messy and unorganised. They're a horrid shade of turquoise blue that's slowly fading. "What do you want here?"

Her voice is aggressive, and I quickly realise she's something of a 'boss' here. At least a protector of these drug addicts residing here. Her eyes shoot deadly glares at me, and I wonder if perhaps taking this specific area wasn't a mistake. Angry women are far more dangerous than angry men, that much I've already learnt.

"I'm a messenger bringing excellent news," I say with the fakest voice possible. "And little colourful rainbows."

Her brown eyes continue shooting through mine, but with no signs of understanding. My words puzzled her mind. Clearly, what I told her didn't ring any bells.

I roll my eyes and sigh in annoyance. "I'm here to sell."

Something in her eyes lights up and she nods. Then she turns around and yells something at someone in a language I don't understand. People start to gather behind her, all glaring at me like I was aiming a gun at their heads.

"Show us what you have."

"The usual."

"You're new." Someone from behind her says. "Who are you?"

"A friend of your dealer. Look, I don't have all day. Give me the money."

No one steps forward, no one even as much as moves an inch. I start to question how George used to do this. What rules and system did he establish here?

"Money, please."

"First the drugs."

I shake my head and laugh. "Absolutely not." Today we'll do it according to my rules. "First the money, then the drugs."