The Black Rose

Tossing Damien’s keys on the entry table, I walked to the kitchen and rummaged through the pantry. On the top shelf, I had a bin of medical supplies. During my training, I learned many medical procedures, most of which I seldom used. Wrapping a broken wrist, however, would be a piece of cake.

“Let me see it,” I blurted as I pulled the bin down. His wrist was beginning to swell. “We should ice that first,” I continued.

“I know,” he interrupted sardonically. I glared at him, every cell in my body screaming to break his other arm. Let’s see how productive he could be then.

Damien’s phone rang. He fumbled with his one good hand. “Hello,” he muttered.

“Yes, it’s done.”

“There were some complications. We need to send the cleaners,” he trailed.

I could hear a voice on the other line, it was a woman.

“I will. Bye.”

He hung up quickly.

I tossed a bag of ice across the kitchen counter. He grabbed it reluctantly and put it on his wrist. I fumbled through the bin and pulled out a clear glass cylinder. Several white, oblong pills were inside. I screwed the cap and abstracted two.

“Here, take these, they will help with the pain and swelling. You can sleep here tonight.” I didn’t want him sleeping here, but after the shit I pulled tonight, it was better to have potential enemies closer.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “Got anything besides water?”

“You probably shouldn’t drink with those,” my brows furrowed. Those white pills would literally have me seeing stars.

“I’ll be fine,” he gruffed shortly.

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged, moving to the far wall and grabbing the crystal vase full of top-shelf whiskey. I poured him a glass, then one for myself.

Damien sloshed the whiskey down his throat, followed by the pills.

“So, what did they have to say?” I aired sarcastically.

Damien stared at me with reproach. “I’m sure they won’t be too thrilled when the cleaners see the Chin house,” he looked at me, whiskey glass in his one good hand.

I bit my lip, staring at him, my face didn’t flinch. “I did what needed to be done.”

“Is that so?” he questioned. “You seem to forget that you’re not in charge. Your assignment was to kill Li Chin, not his entire entourage, guards, servants, and son.”

My eyes remained on him like a hawk. My bottom lip puckered. Damien’s eyes flit to my hands. I could feel the tremors. “Did you take the pills?” he asked but surely knew the answer to.

“I am not a child.” I sassed.

“Oh, knock it off,” Damien raised his voice. “I’m not an idiot and neither are they. I know you need them. How am I supposed to explain this to them? Oh sorry, Alex decided not to take her meds. Alex—”

“Stop,” I blurted, interrupting. His gaze met mine and he grew silent. It took everything in me to remain in my seat. To not snap his neck like a twig. My eyes watered as the pressure built within like a volcano. I rose and moved swiftly to the drawer where I kept the remaining pills. I downed the six, chasing them with a swig of whiskey.

“I’m going to need more,” I aired, shaking in the empty vial and tossing it in his direction.

“You need help,” he pressed, this time with an air of concern.

“No, what I need is to meet them,” I ignored pointing at his phone.

Damien shook his head wildly, “You don’t get it. You don’t make demands with Shadow. You follow orders, you get paid, that’s it.”

I gulped slightly, keeping my composure, my thoughts to myself.

“I’m going to shower,” I muttered. “Keep ice on that.”

“Yea, yea, yea,” Damien mocked, rising to pour more whiskey.

I marched up the stairs to the dark solitude of my bedroom. Closing the door, I moved to the bathroom. My pink Armani trench coat had faint splatters of blood. I unbuttoned it and let it fall to the floor. The black lace dress seemed unscathed. I lowered to unlace my heeled boots. I had blood specks creeping up the sides of my legs.

“Jeez,” I sighed. I threw the boots across the floor. Finally, I stripped myself of the dress. I stood with my lace bralette, underwear, and goiter. The black knife wedged in the goiter was caked with dried blood. I pulled the carbon fiber handle and held the knife in the fluorescent light. The blood was dark, the smell of iron was strong. My lips curled into a dizzying smile. No more Zhang, no more monitoring, no more sleeping with pathetic men. I wouldn’t do it anymore.

I traced the dirtied blade across my wrist, then my stomach, flashes of the stabs and slashes, blurring my vision. I could feel my own blood pulse, sloshing frantically within my veins, delivering the exorbitant amount of adrenaline. I gripped the knife’s handle, twirling it deftly in the air. I could march down the stairs right now and throw this dagger straight through Damien’s head. He would never be the wiser. He would be dead. I could demand a meeting with whoever she was on the other end.

I could take the information I had and blackmail Shadow. I could go on the run. I could tell Mia everything. I could make it my mission to kill every last one of them, or I could shove this blade through my cerebellum and end it all. End the voices, the demons, the killings, my existence. So many I could’s, but not enough I would’s. With a flick of my wrist, I flung the blade and it shot like a laser, its point lodging in the bathroom door.

I turned and twisted the shower knob too hot. I unlatched my bra, pulled down the goiter and underwear, and stepped bare into the scalding water. The steam and liquid burned into my flesh, the honey lavender soap cleansing my body, but also my mind.

I would see Mia tomorrow. A faint smile spread across my face as the pills worked their magic, numbing the inner demons.

Turning off the water, I stepped out of the shower and toweled myself off. I selected my black silk kimono in honor of the Black Rose’s triumph, and I grabbed my phone. I hadn’t looked at it in hours. I had one text.

Mia: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Call me when you arrive. :)

My lips curled into an involuntary grin, wider than normal. Merely her name on my phone caused my heart to race, caused the sick thoughts to evaporate. I didn’t respond. It was almost one in the morning.

I put my phone down, and while part of me thought about checking on Damien, I decided to wait. Hopefully, in a couple of hours, he would be in a coma from the heavy narcotics and alcohol mix.

I sat at my desk computer and hit the space key. The screen light illuminated the corner of the room. I clicked on Mia’s file and left it up. Under my lap, I extracted a small iPad, and with one swift motion, I placed it on top of the laptop screen. If my calculations were correct (which they always were), the “secret” hidden camera would be monitoring me staring at my computer screen. They wouldn’t be able to follow what I was doing.

My fingers moved like a maestro controlling a grand orchestra. They typed at lightning speed. I was uploading all the information I had gathered on Operation Nero, as well as Mia, to the secret chip I had stored in a top-secret place.

As the data loaded, I moved my laptop screen to my own cameras I installed. One at the front door, one in the living room, and one in my bedroom. I clicked on the one in the living room. Damien lay upright on the couch, the glass still making its way ever dangerously to his lips.

“Pass out already,” I mumbled.

I clicked on Mia’s file and scrolled to her phone, then to her texts. I spotted my name, “Alex,” with a new text, but didn’t click. Below mine was, of course, Bob. What did Bob have to say now?

Bob: What a lunch. You’re extraordinary. Not sure if I’ve ever told you that before ;)

Mia: You have a time or two ha-ha. It was a nice lunch, thank you for taking me.

Thirty minutes passed before Bob responded.

Bob: Anytime, Mia. You know how I feel about you. I won’t give up.

Mia: I know, Bob. I wish I could reciprocate your feelings... more than anything.

My nostrils flared. Mia didn’t care for Bob. My heart sang. Not that I thought she did, but it felt good to know it and see it. Suck it, Bob! I gave the air a little high five. Oh, this was glorious. I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Maybe I should pay Bob a little visit? Toy with him a bit. I couldn’t kill him, but I could scare him. “No, Alex you can’t leave,” I muttered. “Get a grip.”

I left Bob’s pitiful dialogue and clicked to the next, Abby.

Abby: How’s it going, Mia? Please tell me a good sex story. Phil has been gone on business for a month. I’m desperate.

Mia: Should I be worried? lol

Mia: Sorry, no sex life for me...still.

Abby: Mia! I don’t know how you manage. I couldn’t go two days without sex.

Me and you both, Abby, me and you both, I thought.

Mia: There’s more to life than sex, Abs.

Abby: Then you haven’t had sex with the right person. Seriously no one?

Mia: Well... I can’t put my finger on it, but I may or may not be attracted to someone.

Abby: OMG. Spill. NOW

Mia: Her name is Alex.

I almost fell out of the chair. I kept scrolling.

Abby: WHAT?!?

Mia: Lol. I don’t know her well, but she wrote this brilliant article about my work. I’ve never read anything so flattering. I don’t know what it is, it could be nothing. Besides, I’ve never even kissed another woman.

With my eventful night, I had forgotten about the article. She liked it. The grin never left my face.

Abby: Can I read the article? Also, you got a pic of her? When are you seeing her next??

Mia: So many questions! You can’t read the article yet until it’s published. I don’t have a picture of her and oddly enough, I couldn’t find her at all on social media. Odd for a journalist. I am seeing her tomorrow. I am giving her a tour of my lab and then dinner at my place.

Abby: Oh, a tour of your lab huh ;)

Mia: Get your mind out of the gutter lol. Okay, have to go back into the lab. I’ll give you a full report tomorrow. Love you.

Abby: You better! Have fun! Love you.

Dr. Mia Renee Semmens might like me. I grasped my iPad and placed it back in its hidden place, then rose. My eyes wide, the hairs on my skin erect. I wasn’t expecting this. I shook my head. No, I can’t. She is a trigger, a massive trigger. I can’t get involved.

I paced back and forth. Mia was my target, not a one-nightstand or someone I could ignore. I had to remain focused. I had to remain six feet away from her, no prolonged eye contact, no touching, nothing. My mind raced. I sat on the edge of the bed, placing my hands over my head as if I could will my mind to stop. Stop thinking, stop the voices, to control what went on in there. Sweat bubbled within my pores as my body temperature rose. I frantically moved to the nightstand for the pills, but remembered I was out. “Shit!” I screamed as I felt myself teetering on the edge of inescapable darkness, of losing all control. I burst through my door and ran down the stairs.

“Wake up!” I barked.

Damien was sprawled on the couch, drool dripping from his lower lip. “What?” he fumbled.

“I need more pills,” I yelled, half pleading. He looked at me, he could see the wildness in my eyes.

“My keys,” he pointed with his good arm. “Go to my car in the trunk and look in the spare tire compartment.”

I didn’t even let him finish. I dashed for his keys and took the longest elevator ride of my life to the basement. Running to his car I burst open the trunk and lifted the mat to expose the spare tire compartment. A black bag. Rummaging through it, he had four vials of pills. I popped open a vial and downed five more before pocketing the rest.

Sitting on the trunk’s rim, I breathed a slight sigh of relief. For now, I was within control. I wiped the water that streamed from my eyes and laughed. I was losing it. I sat there within the confines of the vacant basement waiting for the pills to ease the pain. Maybe Damien was right. I did need help.

Shutting the trunk, I made my way back up to the loft, wishing Damien wouldn’t be there. I didn’t want to see his face nor here is stupid lecture. As I opened my loft door, I could hear heavy breathing emanating from the couch. “Thank you,” I mouthed to my loft ceiling.

I tiptoed quietly through the living room and made my way upstairs. Under control, for now, I took a seat at my desk and extracted the iPad. With Damien comatose, I had free reign on his phone. I opened his texts. His last message was to Landon. He confessed his love for Landon, finally. It had taken him a year but he was ready. Landon seemed frustrated and upset and questioned where Damien was and if he was drunk. The screen went black, and Landon’s name popped up, he was calling. Oh, my insides screamed to answer, to cause drama, but it wasn’t the smart move to make.

Finally, going to voicemail, I continued my prowl. I scanned his last calls but he had no call from anyone tonight. Odd. Shadow must wipe phone records instantaneously. “Great,” I sighed, suddenly bored and exhausted from the mental toil insanity has on the brain.

I rose and fell into bed. Lying on my back, I and gazed up at the ceiling, thinking back to Damien’s texts. Did he have the right idea? Was love worth it? How did he know? What even was love?