Loving a Black Rose

Chapter 6: The Blond Women

Day 4.

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My eyes were closed, and it was dark. Was I dead? My head was burning. No, I wasn't dead. I was lying on my bed. My body felt so heavy, as if I were slowly sinking into the mattress. I felt someone on my arm, and when I opened my eyes, the pain was still there. I realized I wasn't in my room, and the girl next to me wasn't Lou. Memories began to flood my mind. Why had I agreed to go to that bar with George? To clear my head from what had happened. How many shots had I drunk? And who was the girl lying next to me?

I remembered her—Amory had introduced me to her. I couldn't recall her face or her name, only that she had blonde hair. I couldn't stay here. I had to leave immediately. My head was about to explode. I heard a moan when I tried to remove my arm from underneath her without waking her up. I moved slowly and managed to slip my arm free. I quickly dressed, put on my shoes, and headed for the door. I opened it, but a voice called from behind.

— "Why are you leaving now? It's early in the morning." she said in a tired voice.

I glanced back at her, but without a second thought, I turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind me.

I opened the door to my house. I felt guilty, ashamed. I hated myself. This house—this gray, lifeless house—felt suffocating. I hated everything about it—the ticking clock, the idle cats, the dusty family portraits. I hated the people who lived here. I tried to slip to my room unnoticed, but I knew that wouldn't be possible. The house was too small, too quiet, and too full of things I didn't want to deal with. I walked slowly, quietly, keeping my head down, wishing for a moment of peace.

The living room was empty, but as I reached the doorway to my room, a voice called out behind me.

— "Ah, the return of the melancholic artist," Arthur said with a sneer. "Hope you didn't forget this is not a charity for drunk, useless people."

I didn't turn around. My heart was too heavy for anger.

— "Leave me alone," I muttered, my voice flat.

My aunt appeared behind him, her face drawn with concern.

— "Poor guy," Arthur continued. "Did you just lose your girlfriend? Amory's dad told me. What do you care about? She cheated on you, you cheated on her. Not even that pretty, gap-toothed thing.."

— "Arthur, please, leave him alone," my aunt said softly.

But Arthur ignored her, stepping closer, his voice dripping with disdain.

— ""Maybe if you weren't so pathetic, she wouldn't have left." He took another step closer, "But you're too much of a failure, too afraid to ever stand up for anything that matters."

I couldn't stand it anymore. My breath quickened. I spun around, meeting his eyes. I wasn't going to let him push me around like this.

— "You know what's funny?" I said, keeping my voice steady, but the anger was there. "You keep talking about getting a job, but you don't even have one. And, by the way, you never finished your time in the army like you told us—you deserted."

Arthur's expression faltered. He stepped back, stunned by my words, but I wasn't done.

— "Yeah, deserted—ran off two days before a mission. So don't talk to me about failure, Arthur. You're no better than me."

Arthur's face turned white, his hand shooting out to grab me by the collar, shoving me against the door. I felt my head hit the wood with a sickening thud, and for a moment, I couldn't move. His other hand curled into a fist, ready to strike. I was paralyzed, waiting for the blow.

— "Arthur, stop!" my aunt cried, her voice cracking. "Let him go!"

For a long moment, everything was frozen. Then, reluctantly, Arthur released me. His expression twisted between rage and confusion.

— "I wasn't going to hurt him," he muttered, his voice low, defensive. "I was just... teaching him a lesson."

My aunt's eyes blazed with fury. Without a word, she stepped forward and slapped him across the face. It was loud, sharp, and final. Arthur staggered back, stunned into silence.

— "Get out. Now," my aunt said, her voice shaking, but strong.

Arthur didn't argue. He just turned and left, his steps heavy with shame.

As the door closed behind him, my aunt collapsed onto the couch, her face buried in her hands.

— "What did I do? What did I do?" she whispered, her voice broken.

I wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but my own anger, my own despair was too much. I took a step toward her, my hand hovering on her shoulder, but then she looked up, eyes wild with emotion.

— "Don't touch me," she snapped. "Go to your room. I don't want to see you."

The words cut deep. I turned and walked away without a word, my mind racing. Nothing had changed. Arthur was gone, but the tension still hung in the air. This house, this life... nothing felt real anymore. Back in my room, I saw the notebook Lou had given me, lying open on my bed. For a moment, anger surged in me again. If she hadn't given me this damn thing, if she hadn't opened up, maybe none of this would've happened. I could have kept my distance. I could have kept everything normal. I ripped a page out, then another, the sound of tearing paper like a violent release. The pages fluttered around me, like birds escaping. I felt my phone ring and I saw that I had 20 missed phone calls, all coming from Lou. Only one message— I need to talk to you, meet me at my place