Roses & Thorns: Women

by Bry Ann

  No. No. No. The memories are too much.

  “Tell us slut! We know you were with him. There’s no way you don’t know shit.

  Whack!

  “Stop,” one of the men yells calmly. “There are better ways.”

  The unmistakable sound of a switchblade opening echoes throughout the cell.

  “I know you never gave them anything. My name is invaluable. You could have given it to them in exchange for anything. Or simply to get back at me. Or to stop the torture. It’s not like you owed me anything, but you never did. You didn’t give them a damn thing. You were more loyal than most of my men would have been. And I don’t deserve it. Not from you.”

  I sob harder into my knees.

  “I hate myself for what I did to you. I wish I could take it back.”

  “But you got what you wanted! They are dead. You got your revenge.”

  “It wasn’t worth it,” he says, solemn.

  I flick my eyes up. They’re still full of water. “Why?”

  He grabs my legs and pulls us closer together. We are sitting in his closet, like children, with barely any space between us.

  “Yes, they are a rival family. Yes, my mom cheated and all that. I wanted them dead. But most all, I was angry because they are the reason I became this. Boss. I was supposed to be normal. I was supposed to be a fucking banker or something, with a wife and kids, and never know what it’s like to feel the life leave someone’s body. They took that from me, and I hate them for it. I hate them with every bone in my body.”

  And he does, the hate in his eyes sucks every other emotion from the room.

  “But it was too late when I realized, that what I did to you made me exactly who I hated them for making me. I realized the revenge did nothing to ease the hate in my heart and it sure as hell didn’t fix anything. I also realized I almost killed the one person in my life who saw me as something other than the ‘Boss’. I’ll never make it right. I’ll never be forgiven. I’ll never be able to erase what you see when you look at me. But I’ll never hurt you. I want your mind to get that straight. I just want to heal you as much as I can and then let you fly my little dove. Please try to believe that.”

  “I…”

  Before I can speak, Adam’s phone is ringing off the hook. He groans and reaches into his jacket pocket with a mumbled apology.

  “What?” he barks into the phone.

  There’s a pause and then a slow smile spreads across his lips.

  “Sure companies fine.”

  He snaps the phone shut. “I have good news for you little dove.”

  I sit up straighter, desperate to touch him. I'm tired of feeling like my skin is a cold lonely place.

  “Rose is on her way here. With Nix. You like him, don’t you?”

  He smiles, knowingly.

  “No! Let her go! Please let her go.” I fly at him. “Let her go. Let her go. Make him let her go.”

  My fists pound into his chest.

  “Lacey! Shit. Lacey!”

  Fingers dig into my wrists, halting my movements. But uselessly, I still try and fight him.

  “Listen to me. She’s coming willingly.”

  I drop my arms. “What?”

  No way. He’s lying!

  “I don’t know the story yet, but I’ll find out. All I know is Sven and Rose talked and Rose is on her way up here with Nix. In their car.”

  “Th… that makes no sense.”

  He shrugs. “I'm just repeating what I was told.”

  “Bet that’s a first for you.”

  He grins and stands. His arms reach down, under my elbows and pull me to standing.

  “Now, let’s go outside. The doctor is coming by this afternoon to talk with you. Then the psychiatrist. Hopefully Rose and Nix will be here by then. You’re busy today.”

  “I have new clothes. I'm busy. Who am I?”

  “Free.”

  All the air leaves my lungs. I nod dumbly. Adam starts to pull me out, but stops in the doorway, blocking the door with his long, muscular arms. I look at his rings, watch, the tattoo poking out of his sleeve and then finally his eyes.

  “And Lacey,” he leans forward, so close to my face. So, so close. Thump. Thump. Thump. His finger trail my cheek. Gently. Just a whisper along the cold, unbroken flesh. “Thank you.”

  With that, he walks out leaving me alone and confused. Somehow I get my feet to work and follow him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, off to the side. He looks me up and down, then nods.

  “Let’s go.”

  And I do. We spend time walking outside. I still get crazy irrational anxiety, but his ‘yard’ is so beautiful. There’s birds and squirrels and water. The trees are so green and bright. It’s a stark contrast to him. His life. My mind. I love being out here. I hated it the first day, but now… I'm starting to find peace here. Plus, I'm starting to believe Adam wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.

  That scares me more than going outside ever could.

  If there was ever anyone who could keep me safe, it’s a Boss in the Italian Mafia. Adam.

  “What do you want for lunch today?”

  “Um…” I bite my lip and stare at the fridge after we head back inside. So many options. Too many, for a girl who’s never had any. “I want…” chicken, fish, eggs, beans… my mind is swirling. He seems to sense this. He places a hand on my arm and squeezes gently, not realizing the place he’s squeezing is where the word ‘trash’ is carved into my arm. By me, in a moment of desperation.

  I'm not so sure I feel like trash right now. I'm wearing clean clothes. Eating. But more than anything, I have a say in my own life. He’s giving me that.

  “I…”

  “Sir!” Two men run in, guns at the ready. Adam goes from relaxed to brutal in an instant. “We’re under attack.”

  Both men look straight to me with a look I can’t interpret. Adam’s gun is out and he’s in front of me before I can blink.

  “Who?” Adam snaps. His voice is like ice. I back away from them. I'm gonna be taken. The small bit of safety I’d built shatters like glass around me. I can’t think. I'm shaking. I want to claw at my sweatshirt. The illusion. It’s all I lie. I back up into the pantry door, throwing my hands over my ears and closing my eyes. I can’t live through this again. Help me. Help. Somebody see me. H.e.l.p. M.e.

  Rough hands jerk my hands-free of my ears.

  “Come on little dove. You with me? I gotta get you out of here.”

  His eyes look worried, his body looks furiously determined.

  “Can you walk? Okay, come on. No time.”

  He wraps his hand around my back and quickly ushers me forward. My legs move of their own accord. I hear a gunshot and scream. That’s how people die. Knives I can handle, because there’s more hope with knives than guns.

  “Shh, I need you to be quiet okay.”

  More guns. More shots. Are people dying? My feet are still moving. He’s still touching me. He’s still furiously determined. I whimper as another gunshot sounds. It sounds so close.

  “I know. I know,” Adam says as softly as he can, “I know you’re scared.”

  That last sentence comes out sounding like a threat to the enemy. Like he wants to kill them just for scaring me, which is ridiculous.

  Finally, we are in his room. I feel a little safer when Adam shuts the door. I know all the locks that are there. He pushes me into the closet. I stand to the side shaking as chaos echoes around me. He takes my hand and pulls me down. I look under the pants and see a small door. I look at him, eyebrows drawn.

  “Get in,” he says quickly.

  I open the door and crawl inside. It’s super small. I tuck myself up and lean against the wall.

  “Stay here. Don’t come out until I come to get you or someone gives you the password.”

  “What’s the password?”

  He gives me a sad smile. “Little Dove.”

  “Okay,” I say, cheeks red. “Where are you going?”

  “To fight
with my men,” he replies, like my question is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “I always fight with my men.”

  “Stay,” I whisper. The thought of losing him terrifies me, enough to lose my sense. “Don’t leave me all alone.”

  His face softens. He bends down and gently grazes my cheek. Then he pulls away, face firm and stalks off, slamming the door behind him. I know he’ll put every lock in place, but knowing he’s out there fighting while I'm locked in a small, hidden wall room has never made me feel more alone. And scared. I can’t hear the chaos from here, but I'm not sure that helps.

  I just want to cut myself.

  I dig my nails into my skin trying to fight the urge. I don’t want to be weak anymore, but I don’t know how not to be. Without cutting the emotions are too much. The pain is too much. If Adam dies what happens then? Will I really be free? No. I'm so scared. My nails dig in deeper.

  Cut. Cut. Cut. I need blood. I need it.

  I start to cry. This dumb box. Why did he stick me in here?

  “Scream for me now. Will you? We want him to hear, don’t we?”

  And I did. I screamed so loud as the blade pierced my skin.

  I stopped screaming when he pierced my body in a place I didn’t want him to.

  Then gunshots.

  Then Adam.

  I sob into my knees. Come back. Come back.

  The door swings open. Light floods me. I block it with my hand. I scoot back, still crying.

  “Little dove. I was supposed to say the password first, right?”

  “Adam,” I whisper, flying out of the room into his arms.

  “Woah,” he says as I crash into his chest. Hesitantly, he wraps an arm around me. “It ’s okay. It was a mistake. That’s all.”

  “A mistake?” I cry.

  “On their part.”

  His voice is so deadly, I shiver.

  “It’s really okay,” he says, soft again, as I shake and sob against his chest. It’s once again the two of us on the closet floor.

  “I wanted to hurt myself,” I say, feeling him stiffen. I have no idea why I'm opening up to him in this way. I don’t do this. “But I didn’t.”

  “I'm proud of you.”

  Proud of me? Him?

  “Adam,” I whisper, knowing I'm only under the illusion of safety is his arms.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  He goes alarmingly straight. I squeeze tighter. He can’t let go. Not now.

  “I'm so tired of all this. I'm so weak. I thought I was okay the whole time. I wasn’t a total coward, but now,” I dig my face deeper into his shoulder, not caring I'm getting snot and everything else all over him, “Adam, I'm broken. I'm so tired. If I just sleep, I can sleep forever and it’ll all be…”

  I'm jerked from his arms, hands only gripping my shoulders so I have to face him.

  “You’ll be what?” he half-growls, half pleads.

  “At peace.”

  I look down, ashamed. Adam pulls me back into him. I can’t cry. I tuck into him. Desperately crawling into his lap like a little child. He holds me there until I hear a sound I never in a million years thought I’d hear.

  Cries.

  From him.

  He’s crying.

  I can’t think.

  I scramble back and cup his face. Sure enough, in front of me is Adam with tears in his eyes, looking so sad and so disheveled from the fight he just came back from.

  “God Lacey I'm so sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry.”

  “Don’t cry,” I plead, holding his face and frantically wiping the tears away. He lets out a choked laugh.

  “God Lacey you're perfect, and I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done.,” his head falls from my hands to my shoulder. At this moment he’s the broken one, not me, “and I… don’t know how to deal with that.”

  “Adam. Adam. Adam, please look at me.”

  With a groan he does, having regained some control over his tears. I stare at him. His brokenness the complete opposite of mine, but all right there in his eyes. Like me.

  He traces a thumb over my cheek where my tears were. Before I can blink, think, process anything, he’s leaning forward and his lips are on mine. I mewing sound escapes my lips. I'm not alone. I don’t let my hands touch him like they want to. He doesn’t care. He pulls me in closer to him. I feel his erection against my leg, but instead of being scared I feel beautiful and desired. How could anyone want me? He’s seen me. My scars.

  He pulls away and shakes his head. Pulls so far away from me. Not physically, but emotionally.

  “Fuck Lacey. I'm sorry.”

  He pushes me off him and paces the closet, leaving me on the floor. Confused, yet so, so sure.

  “I'm so sorry. Fuck!”

  I slowly stand. My legs feel all spiky from sitting so long.

  “Adam, I…”

  He looks at me. His eyes are full of anger, but I know this time it’s directed at himself. In most instances that anger would be deserved, but the one time it’s not he feels it is. I run and fall into him. Once again his arms wrap around me. Like they always have since he brought me back. People have done worse than what he did. My own parents sold me, and I’d forgive them in an instant.

  “Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me.”

  He squeezes tighter. “I'm not.”

  “I don’t need you, but I really, really want you.”

  He smiles against my hair. I didn’t think it was possible for him to smile in this moment, all emotional and ragged.

  “I think I'm falling for you Lacey, whatever your last name is.”

  “Lesser.”

  “Lesser?”

  “That’s my last name.”

  He pulls away, still holding me. “Lesser? I fucking hate that.”

  I shrug, but really, I hate it too.

  “I really fucking hate that,” he mumbles to himself.

  “You can’t be falling for me. That’s nuts. You’re you. I'm me.”

  “You’re so much better than me,” he says, nuzzling my hair. He can be so gentle sometimes. I pull myself in closer to him. His warm body feels like home. Once again, I let myself stupidly give into this fantasy. Maybe I'm just broken enough to do that again.

  “Can we… pretend again?” I mumble, feeling embarrassed.

  He pulls me off, and grabs the back of my neck, holding my gaze to his.

  “We are never pretending again,” he says firmly. “But little dove,” he brushes my hair back revealing my whole face to him, scars and all, “if you want me. You’ve got me.”

  I step away. In one bold move, I lift my sweatshirt over my head, leaving me standing before him in my bra and crappy, oversized jeans. My body is riddled with scars, indentations, stitches, curves, flab, imperfections, stories no one would ever want to hear.

  “No one could ever want me.”

  Adam’s jaw hits his chest. He walks, no stomps over to me, throwing his jacket off on the way and rolling up his sleeves.

  “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Do you hear me?”

  “I mean I hear you.”

  He traces his finger along my stomach, making my muscles tighten and my breath woosh out of my chest. He laughs.

  “I met my challenge in you.”

  “No, you’re just… nicer to me. Now.”

  “Niceness is a challenge for me.”

  I duck my head and laugh.

  “I canceled the doctor and therapist for today. I figured after everything that’s happened today the last thing you’d want is to have people poking into your head.”

  “Very, very good thinking.”

  “They don’t call me the boss for nothing.”

  More laughter escapes me.

  “What do you want to do from here Lacey?”

  “I… don’t know. Can’t you just…”

  He laughs. “Want me to cover the bossing around side of things?”

  I nod frantically, earning mo
re laughter from him.

  “Okay little dove,” he whispers sensually in my ear, “but know this. You are really the one in charge here.”

  When I don’t say anything he laughs and steps back. He throws my sweatshirt back over my head. Confused, I frown at him before I can stop myself.

  “Patience little dove,” he chuckles. He scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing. “Close your eyes,” he says when we get to the door.

  I do, but question it.

  “Have people died?” I whisper.

  “No Lacey. But there’s chaos, destruction, and blood. I want you to keep your eyes closed.”

  “They are.”

  “Thank you,” he sighs.

  “Where are we going? Was I confused about what I…”

  He laughs so hard he nearly drops me.

  “Nope. Don’t think so Lacey,” he chuckles.

  Holding me tight he manages to kick the back door open. Now I'm really confused.

  “We are going for a walk,” I say, trying to bury the crushing disappointment.

  He scoffs. “No. You need to learn what it is to feel pleasure.”

  Tingles spread throughout my entire body.

  “Don’t hurt me. Not this time. Just kill me, okay? If you have to… When… if… just kill me. I can’t do take it again. Not from you.”

  The betrayal. The Sting. The hurt. My heart.

  “Never.”

  I tuck my head into him. I hear another door being kicked open. He sets me on the ground. I wobble, but his hand on my hip steadies me.

  “Look,” he says.

  I glance around. We are in a small greenhouse. There’s greenery everywhere, but it’s not overwhelming or gross. It’s stunning. Breathtaking. And I'm being stupid, but I don’t have it in me to care.

  “Sweatshirt off,” he commands, with the flick of his wrist. Feeling brave I smile slightly.

  “Shirt off first,” I say, mimicking his wrist flick.

  His eyes light up. “I thought I was in charge here little dove,” he says with an evil smile as he throws his shirt off.

  “I thought I was,” I counter.

  His eyebrows raise. He lunges for me. I squeal and sprint off teasing him. Laughing the whole dang time. He smiles too.

  “This is a four by four box little dove. I’ll catch you.”

  I’ll catch you. Is he strong enough to do that? I'm not sure anyone is, but if there was ever anyone… it’d be him.