Colour My Ugly

by A. Giannoccaro

  I was such a fool. I cannot be fixed all I have done is make my ugliness a part of someone else. I should never have told him anything. My mind shuts down and I feel my eyeballs fill with blood I am going to pass out. The familiar feeling of a pending panic attack fills my body slowly. First my throat goes dry and closes off to the air I need so much, then my lungs burn and my mind shuts down at last. Blackness, quiet, peace. Please let me be dead I don’t want to wake up again.

  ROWAN

  “Tattoos have a power and magic all their own. They decorate the body they also enhance the soul.”

  ~Michelle Delio

  I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe I cannot force the air into my lungs. I am all but running down the hall I fling myself on the floor of the guest toilet and I throw up my dinner and I think everything I have eaten in a month. I cannot get the sight of her body out my head as I dry heave into the toilet. How did she live that horror story? How is she even alive? I could see from some of her scars how deep he had stabbed her. Not one had the marks of being stitched up. The fucking bastard. I am ashamed at how I have treated her, I never knew what lay beneath her clothes. I feels an even deeper guilt now that I stopped watching her, I could have stopped that from happening. I hate myself right now I am a failure.

  My mind won’t stop raking back over every inch of her skin, every inch marked and broken. Every angry purple scar feeding my rage. Her beautiful thighs slathered with burns I know came from his filthy cigars. I am sure I saw scars from bite marks across her breast. I feel bile rising up my throat again. I close my eyes trying to erase what I have seen but I the images just become clearer.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer and turned away from me I saw her back and that was my undoing I couldn’t stay a second longer. The raised scars stretching from her knees all the way up to her neck where I know he has whipped her with a shambok and God knows what else. I shouldn’t have made her do that, I saw the terror when she begged me with her eyes not too. Her words had made it sound so bad, but seeing it they seem to have revealed nothing of what she has lived for eight, fucking eight years. I needed the control of knowing everything I was responsible for and I pushed her.

  The reason behind it all hurts me even more. He was punishing her for what Mick did to his mother he kept her alive to punish her. When he found out he could gain from her death he didn’t have the balls to finish what he started so he hired me. Coward fucking coward. I cannot put out the fire of rage burning in me now I want to kill him, I need to kill him. I want to hurt him and break him and make him die slowly. He killed her for eight years.

  She is right, I cannot fix her. I don’t think anyone could fix her. But I can let her live. She spent eight years dying slowly every day. I can let her live. She feels safe here and I won’t let her go but I will let her live and maybe heal a little.

  I haul myself up off the cold tiled floor and take in a big breath of air trying to get myself ready to go back and face her after I ran away like baby. I should have stayed, said something, anything. It was just too much.

  I push her room door open and look in, but it’s empty so I go back to my room. She is exactly where I left her on the floor in a pile every inch of her broken body still on display. I can’t look I don’t want to see it anymore, but I can’t leave her there. As I bend down I can tell she has fainted. I have seen enough people faint in my job to know she isn’t just asleep. It was too much for her, I am such an idiot. I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and cover her body. As I lift her up off the floor her small frame melts into my chest and for the first time in my life since Cassie died I feel a tear escaping down my cheek. I don’t know why but in that moment I just can’t let go, I should not have done this. I have broken her even more. I lift her into my bed and cover her with my sheets. I slide in behind her and hold her unconscious body against mine and beg for sleep to take me away. Her words from earlier haunt my effort to sleep. “Who will pay for your sins Rowan?” I lay there awake as I see dawn breaking through my curtains and I just hold this broken shell of a woman in my arms and I know for the very first time since I was just a boy and since Cassie died that I am feeling. Feelings scare the shit out of me. I do know that no one can pay for my sins except me and no one ever will. I want to stop feeling but I cannot stop whatever it is I feel for her.

  I can see the sunlight getting brighter outside and I know she sleeping and will be for a while still, so slink away from her warm body and go shower in her bathroom so I don’t wake her. I have to meet Callum for breakfast this morning and then I am going to get yesterday’s numbers added to my tattoo. I feel like yesterday was the longest day of my life. As I let the hot water scald my skin, I keep flashing back to her broken body and her words saying all she wanted was to die. I have an idea how to fix her. My mind hasn’t stopped working all night. She wasn’t always Ellia. She was Lauri once a care free teenager who had passion and life in her. Ellia is dead she has been dying for eight years we need to bury her and resurrect Lauri. Maybe just maybe I can save this woman. I couldn’t save Cassie when she wanted to die, but hell if I won’t try my hardest this time. I will get three numbers today, Ellia is dead. I will find Lauri in the shell of a woman lying in my bed and I will save her. But I have to kill Ellia to do that. So number one hundred and ten is her.

  I take my towel clad body back to my room to dress. She hasn’t moved an inch. I throw on a pair of tailored beige pants and a golf shirt grabbing a spare one and slip on a pair of loafers before I leave her in peace. My eyes keep wondering back to her sleeping face on my pillow she seems so serene in her sleep compared with the turmoil of when she is awake.

  I am way too early for Callum but a long drive and a walk by the ocean may just help me clear my head a little so get in my car and leave right away. The house is locked and I know she cannot get out but somehow I get the feeling she wouldn’t run even if she could. I will check in on my phone during the day. I need some space between me and her right now, I acted like an asshole last night and I am not ready to face her just yet.

  The morning air in my lungs feels fresh and clean as I drive out of the estate and head towards the city. I stop in Simon’s Town, I love it here it just seems to be a peaceful place. I leave my shoes in the car roll up my pants and walk towards the beach. I love the ocean the smell of the sea air always feels like it is cleaning my insides out as I breathe it in. I walk for a long while the rough cape seas washing on shore lull me into my thoughts I stop and sit on some rocks and just stare out at the ocean. I feel and it’s hurting me, I hate that feeling I felt it before as a boy when my Pop was killed. I wonder if Mick would have done all he did knowing that his sins would be visited on his child. If he knew that all his bad would kill her good anyway. I contemplate the ways in which I plan to kill her fucking monster husband. I cannot squash the rage coursing through my veins today; I hope I get a job so I can get some of it out before I need to return home because just looking at her right now would snap me. I need to burn it off. I need to kill someone today. Preferably someone bad.

  As the sunlight gets a little warmer and I know it’s closer to the time Callum may wake up I start to walk back to the car my mind cannot stop going back to the images of her broken body, they don’t match her beautiful face, her hazel eyes, her childish smile and most of all the don’t match her soul. She isn’t bad like Mick was or I am. She is still angelic compared to us. Her outside doesn’t match her inside. She really is broken; I understand now what she meant I couldn’t fix her. I cannot fix those scars I cannot erase them. I want to, I want to so badly. What really has me baffled is how did she not turn into a homicidal maniac and kill him? She has the same murderous blood in her veins that I do. I always believed it was something I could not change even if I wanted to, I was born to be killer like my father.

  I drive towards Callum’s favourite breakfast dive in Tableview. He eats here every day, he can’t cook either. I park and head in
side knowing full well that Cal will be late. I pull out my phone and text him.

  You’re late.

  I don’t get a reply I just sit and order a strong black coffee from my smelly waiter who looks half-baked at nine in the morning. I open the security app on my phone and check the cameras. She is still asleep on my bed. I watch to see if she moves, if she senses me watching. I am snapped out of it by the roaring of Callum’s car as he parks outside. He is dressed as always in a designer suit with his wild messy hair making it look cheap anyway. His walk is confident and strong he never looks anything other than the boss that he is.

  He walks over to our usual table and before he sits he looks me over and loudly states “You look like shit Rowan.”

  Thanks I think to myself, as if I wasn’t aware of it, I feel like shit too my friend.

  “Thanks, you need a haircut.” My sarcasm dripping off each word. He sits down and crosses his too long legs. I can see him looking over me getting all worried that I am losing my shit. I am losing my shit. I need my friend right now. Not I am the boss of the world Callum, the one who can help me fix this shit Callum.

  “You fix that little problem of yours yet Rowan?” he asks me and I can tell he really is concerned. “It can’t be fixed Cal, not as easily as I thought anyway.” I don’t look at him I don’t want him to see how fucked up I am over her. I drink my coffee like it will give me the answers I need.

  “No Rowan it is easy, you get her an ID and put her money in an account and let her fucking GO!” He speaks in a hushed yell so no one can hear what he is saying to me. His anger is evident even in his whispered voice and I see that he is not going to be easy to win over on this. “She is not your pet man, she is not your girl, or woman or whatever. You cannot keep her. Wasn’t Cassie enough for you to know you can’t keep a girl? You are a murderer Rowan, worse off she actually knows that about you.” His words contain enough poison to kill me, I know Callum will always blame me for Cassie, he loved her.

  I know he is right but I can’t let go. I don’t want to tell her story, God she didn’t want to tell it but I need Callum to understand. He won’t understand no one could understand without seeing. He needs to see.

  “Cal, her husband was a bastard. He broke her. I cannot possibly break her she is so broken. She doesn’t want to leave she wants to stay, it’s her home at least the only home she ever knew.”

  Cal’s eyes search mine I know he is worried about me, about this. He doesn’t trust me to be around anyone for any length of time afraid I might kill them or just being near me will make then suicidal. He doesn’t understand. I scroll through the security footage last night and freeze on the camera shot of her back. I zoom it in so it’s clear I can barely look at it again as I hand my phone to Callum. I see him swallow hard and stick his fingers in his collar trying to loosen it. His eyes don’t leave the image not for a second I see the same rage that I am feeling building in Callum’s body. His fists clench and he is grinding his teeth. We don’t need to talk about it anymore my friend understands now. He hands my phone back to me as our food is delivered to the table. I am not hungry anymore seeing her body broken like that again has me wanting to throw up all over again. I can see Callum’s appetite has waned too. His mind is racing with thoughts and he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I see his phone vibrating all over the table and he just ignores it. I break our silence first.

  “I am going to kill him Callum.”

  He nods his head. He knows I am. We talk freely now the tension between us broken. I explain why that fucker did it. I tell Cal my plan to try and help her live again, that maybe we can fix her just a little. He listens and asks me questions as we eat our food. Before we leave Callum asks me to make him a promise. I know my friend is deeply concerned about me being this involved with anyone, he knows I am a monster, perhaps the only one who knows how much of a monster I am.

  “Rowan, if you can’t fix her and she wants to go, you let her go. If she still wants to die you let her. Promise me as my friend as the closest thing to a brother or family I have you will let her go if she wants to. She isn’t yours. I promise I will help you kill him but you promise me that right now.” I know he means what he says and really should make that promise but I don’t know if I can let her go. Not yet anyway. But I lie to my friend and agree to his promise. I know that I will never let her go.

  We leave each other in the car park and I drive to my big burly tattoo artist Robin who has a girl’s name. I am a regular here, he works from his home being a true artist he has no desire to be ambitious and is as lazy as he talented. He has inked almost my whole torso and adds to my bleeding heart of numbers almost monthly. Robin himself has very few tattoos on his tanned coloured skin he claims he doesn’t trust the talent of another enough to let them ink his body. I however trust him with mine.

  When I arrive his wife Amya lets me in the front door she is a stunning woman, a real rockabilly babe and she is covered in ink and piercings her whole body is art. Her retro styled hair and makeup make me want to undress her right there in the entrance hall. Her mother was from India and her dad, Callum’s Pop had fair skin, she has the most amazing skin I have ever seen. I know not to covet another man’s wife but Amya is hot in all the right ways to get my blood pumping in the wrong ones. There is something insanely sexy about a woman with tattoos for me. I love them. Amya is Callum’s half-sister, one of his fathers’ many “bastards” she was sent to Africa when her presence became a nuisance for their Pops.

  “Rowan, stop ogling my wife man. How the hell are you?” Robin greets me with a slap on the back for checking out his wife. We exchange greetings and head upstairs to his small studio the cluttered space overlooks the ocean and I can see some ships on the horizon. I peel of my shirt and sit on his leather work chair. “Three numbers today Robin and I want one to be red though.” His dark brown eyes meet mine with a questioning look. Every number is identical all the same size, font and colour so my request has him confused. Robin was a gangster before this and he knows what my numbers are and why I get them, he is well aware of the monster in me. I know he will want to know why number one hundred and ten is different but he won’t ask. He has ink on his body marking him for the lives he has taken too. It’s why we get along so well. “One hundred and ten must be red. It’s a special one.” That’s enough to satisfy him for now and he sets up his gun and ink on the table next to us. The sting of the needle biting my skin is like therapy for me I love it. The pain of every line sooths my anger. Maybe this will be enough and I don’t need to work today. He finishes the black numbers first then he gets ready to change to the red ink. “You sure man? Before I start we can’t erase this shit you know?” he asks me before he starts. I nod my confirmation already missing the pain of his needle on my skin. Once my numbers are complete I allow Robin to continue work on the never ending artwork he has painted over my back and chest. I love the stinging needle biting my skin and I would lie here all day if he had time. His needle slowly unwinds the rage that has built over the past weeks and I am almost calm by the time he calls it a day. He never works all day, afternoons are for kite surfing in the bay or drinking. At 2pm sharp I walk out my friend’s door feeling almost human. Ellia’s red number burning on my chest and my back scorching with pain from Robin’s art and words.

  I have a few things to do; I need to get her some house keys, a car and some sort of identification. I head to the locksmith to get keys cut and extra remotes for gate and garage access. While I stand waiting I send Callum a text:

  Bud, please get you contact to arrange ID book,

  Passport and bank account for Ms Lauri Spillane

  I will collect tomorrow

  Tomorrow? Seriously? He takes a week Rowan.

  Tomorrow Callum I will fetch it from you at noon. He

  is a criminal he can do it.

  OK I’ll do what I can. Of all the fucking

  names in the worl
d she chose her real name?

  No, I did. Tomorrow.

  I head to the nearest car dealership next. She needs wheels if I am going to give her any sense of freedom. She needs to learn to live again. To be person not a prisoner or a possession. Audi happens to be the first dealership I see so that’s what it is I don’t have time to waste wandering around from dealer to dealer. I walk into the showroom and I can see the car for her right there on the floor. Its fiery red and cheeky as all hell. The sporty new RSQ5 is a really hot but definitely girly SUV. It’s perfect. That’s the one. An overly perky little sales lady comes over to me; I don’t look like the kind of guy coming in here to buy a million Rand car in my casual clothes so none of the big boys get up to help me, to them I must be browsing wasting time. Idiots.

  “I want this one. It needs to be delivered to my estate in Franschoek before today and I need your banking details and to use your desk to transfer the payment now, thank you.” Her eyes bug out of her pretty little face at my blunt tone, I hate dealing with people and avoid this kind of shit whenever I can.

  “That’s a million Rand car, Sir are you sure?” Sales Barbie sputters out not sure if she should take me seriously or not. Flicking her hair over her shoulder pushing her perky breasts out, and fluttering her eyes at me. Stupid woman she doesn’t need to flirt she made the sale already, but that obviously how she makes any others. I like what I see, her and the car.

  “Your desk young lady?” I raise my eyebrows at her waiting for her to get this moving I don’t have time for shit right now.

  I follow sales Barbie to her poky little desk in the corner and see the other sales staff eying her out, their whispers clearly mocking her like she couldn’t sell that car to anyone let alone me. I mean a guy dressed like me with messy hair covered in tattoos bleeding through his shirt back can’t buy a million Rand car. Fuckers.