Clandestine | 18+

22~ Petal Red Roses

Ex Habit- I know (Faded)
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"The voice is the most powerful tool."
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"Here." I opened the door of the apartment under my floor, one of my hands opening the handle, the other rotating the key I used to open it, a pure smile on my face.

My throat was feeling blessed, talking so much in my voice.

Louis's steps halted as they soon came to a stop. His eyes widened for a second, his bottom lip quivering.

It was the same apartment he had promised Jossie to one day buy her. Same design, blood red walls, famous original paintings hanging on them. Picasso. Her favorite.

For her Picasso's mind was a maze, one she spent countless hours studying in his art. One day, Louis had told her, I will buy you a penthouse, its walls red, like your hair, and his paintings on the walls.

She had just laughed.

Louis didn't know I knew this story, but he soon would learn why.

"H..How?" His voice trembled. "How did you know? I never told you." His eyes started to water as his throat moved, as if trying to swallow his emotions whole.

"I have my ways." I smiled entering the apartment, gesturing for him to follow me inside.

Black chandeliers, she was never fond of the gold cliche ones, and a color to match the interior of the apartment.

Louis sniffed beside me.

"This is how she wanted her house to look like.. she.." He breathed in. "She loved black, red, and Picasso. She loved nature, wood in particular.. it was her.." His words died at the back of his throat as he sobbed staring at the kitchen.

It was made completely out of wood, with little led lights everywhere so she didn't need to open the entire salon lights.

"I- How..." His words died again as he saw the stairs going up, wood, plants hung in the air so you could smell them going up.

Louis put one hand in front of his heard, squeezing his shirt as if it would touch his heart.

"Follow me." My voice softened, my eyes watering at the love, at the blunt representation of it, a love so strong that years after could still impact him, destroy him.

The only thing that kept him sane was her, now I built this in hopes of it to be this home.

A reflection of Jossie, one that would never die.

My heart squeezed, not as hard as his, but at the pain that I would never find a man's strong hands who would do everything in his power to keep me safe.

That there would be no one swearing in the name of God, that, they take me, to be their wife, to have and to hold from the day on the altar and forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. To have that as their solemn vow.

Instead I will have a husband, but the hand of who's would rip me apart, not hold me.

I trailed my hand at the black wooded steps handle, one to match the wooded colored flooring.

My head, heart, muscles hurt. My heart hurt. I hurt.

It hurt knowing I'd never find that soul consuming love, a love so strong that would make a man feared by many cry behind me only for showing him a house in memory of his soon would have been fiancee.

But the world took her too soon in his eyes, never giving them their happy ever after.

And I hurt for feeling his hurt.