I remember what she tasted like the first time. The first time we kissed and went a little beyond… Something delicately sweet and sensual so that it had me all wrapped away into her arms, peeling away at anything that blocked me from sampling the rest of her. True, I might’ve been female but there are reasons behind my motives I assure you, and men are now so vile to me that I would consider nothing more than the dame on my arm. At that time, however, she was under my lips.
It was during one of our first escapades that it was revealed to me. The smoothly inked etch of a rose in her ivory skin, trapped under a glass container where a golden key rested neatly in the lock. A little rose in full bloom, one that held all the meaning in the world to me as I traced it slowly with my fingers and allowed my eyes to trail upwards to meet hers. She looked down at me, obviously flustered in her passion, her breathing heavy and admittedly seductive to me. But I was suddenly no longer in the mood.
I lifted away from her, pulling up my shirt and simultaneously yanking at the hem of my jeans. A part of her seemed satisfied, thinking that I had only paused for a brief moment and that the seduction would continue. But as I said, I was no longer in the mood and all thoughts of wooing the vulnerable damsel beside me was all gone as I revealed, so close to special parts of my own being as a woman, my own tattoo.
The rose was a lush crimson color, fully in bloom under the confinement of a glass dome. The flower sat comfortably on a wooden pedestal underneath its container, a golden lock carved into it where a key rested inside. My lover, who I have yet to name so for our own safety I’ll call her Eirian, blinked in and out of her confusion as she continued to stare at the tattoo that marked my skin. Then it finally clicked.
“Ho s**t!” she cried, scrambling up to hands and knees and fingering at the image as if trying to reassure herself it was real, “It’s exactly like mine.”
Obviously… I did not say this, but there were occasions when Eirian was so blonde it was hard to believe. But some part of her was horribly adorable as she continued to finger at it gently, mouth slightly agape. I reached down for her hands and held them in mine, but her eyes would not pry from the tattoo. In all reality, it was one that even I didn’t look at anymore, so for someone to be staring at it made me feel a little uncomfortable.
“Eirian?” I whispered, and her large brown eyes finally jerked upwards to connect with mine. The look of awe was still readable on her features. Looking back, I wonder if the rose tattoo had been what held the two of us together so long. Both of us like two roses bounded by the same lock…
Needless to say, what happened next… Letting go of the hem of my shirt and allowing my jeans to lift back upwards, I plopped down on the couch beside her. Reaching for a cigarette on the coffee table and setting it alight, I diligently reflected over this newfound news. In the gloomy darkness of the living room of my second-story apartment, the tip of my cig was the only form of light aside from the dim glow of the streetlight outside. I took a long drag before I spoke.
“So how’d you get it?”
I still remember the way she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, one hand reaching absently to where the tattoo was mostly hidden away by blue jeans. It was interesting then to think we both had the same tattoo in the same place, even though now I don’t find it so interesting. A part of me had hoped it was a sign to seal our fate and that it meant Eirian and I was meant to be somehow. The other part of me wasn’t quite so stupid.
What Eirian told me that night is of little importance to you, not because I don’t want to tell you, but because by telling you my story you’ll get the exact same effect. Simply: her story was my own.
You see, his name was Maverick—laughable right?—but there was always a strict rule that he went by nothing other than Rick. Funny, because he never abided by any one else’s rules, but it was needless to say that Rick was exactly what I called him. It was about three months ago that Rick was still my boyfriend, we had been together for about a year while I was still going through my bi-curious phase. As you can understand, or soon will, three months is hardly long enough to heal all of one’s scars so there might be occasions when I come off sounding bitter. For that I don’t apologize.
Like I said, you’ll find out why.
So, we’ve established that three months is hardly long enough to heal all of one’s scars, but in this case I’m not just talking emotional. You see, Rick was the kind of guy that lost his temper quickly: compulsive and unnecessarily jealous. There was many a time I was on the wrong end of his anger and depending on the severity of my fault, it would determine what punishment got dealt out that day. A mild state of disobedience generally resulted in the occasional welt or bruise. Severe, though seldom and far in between as I soon learned not to reach that level so often, would lead to complete hospitalization.
Regardless of the occasional doctors visits, nasty arguments, and thrown tempers it’s safe to say I was foolishly in love with Rick. Even my parents wanted little to do with our relationship, and I remember them completely abandoning all forms of communication with me: not even so much as a letter. The last time I had talked to my mother was about ten months ago, and it’s sad to think her last words to me was, “I really hope for your sake, Claire, that he doesn’t kill you.” From the place I’m standing I think that it is sort of ironic I didn’t tell her I’d kill him before he killed me. It would have made this all the more hilarious.
Har. Har. Har.
He was my picture-perfect prince and when I first bumped into him in high school I thought he was the one. He scooped me up one sugar-coated night to whisk me off to a local motel where it was there that my V-card was quick to be revoked. And it was in one of the most violent of ways as I found my picture-perfect nightgown ripped to shreds and so many scratches along my body I felt as if I was covered with pain. Waking up in tiny puddles of my own blood… And still, the hope that he loved me kept with me until years later.
I was twenty when he finally plucked me up and knew he wanted to have me. I was desperately in love and all thoughts of that violently passionate night had escaped me. It was time for a new romance, and all I hoped for was his love.
All I ever got was my blood.
I did not live with Rick, but he would come to stay at my house almost every other night and head off to work in the mornings. Since the break up I’ve moved into a new place for obvious reasons but thinking back on it I wonder if Rick ever stayed at his own place. According to Eirian he had been staying at her house every other night as well. So I guess the nights he was not with me, he had been with her. Amusing…
It had been about two months before the break-up that he took me to this little tattoo parlor in downtown central to get the rose. The place was small, a bit of a shady place that I probably wouldn’t have gone into by myself despite the dark and gloomy way I portray myself everyday. These people were a whole new level of dark, however, half-naked with ink covering nearly every inch of their skin. Some of them were very attractive pieces of art, while others made my heart pound heavy in my chest. And the walls were so covered with tattoo art and body jewelry pieces that I’m not too sure what color the walls were underneath. We’ll assume they were white.
“You want to be mine forever, don’t you?” he asked me, and the answer was obvious. You never said no to Rick. Next thing I know I’m in the back of the tattoo parlor getting a rose sketched so close to my pelvis I could feel it start to vibrate in my v****a. And damn did it hurt. I remember biting my lip so hard I probably drew blood but I didn’t cry a single time. I learned how to handle pain without crying out very well.
I did not know it then, but the next day he went through the same procedure with Eirian.
Forever never lasts long.
Two months after the relationship started going downhill. The fights were more frequent, the bruises coming so often that I was starting to look like a black and blue Dalmatian. His frequent visits had started slimming down so that I was only seeing him for maybe one to two hours a week, and even then his demeanor was completely suspicious. I was fool enough to suspect him of cheating and confronted him about it, which would always result in my being tossed around like a rag doll or beat so hard in the face I thought the bones in my jaw would shatter. Somehow I still loved that b*****d though. And I blamed myself. I decided I would make it up to him.
Bag of goodies in my arm I decided to go to his apartment unannounced. I was surprised to see that he was home judging from his car parked out front, but decided to surprise him instead of knocking. I knew where he kept the spare key and opened up the door and stepped inside. It was dark, which is no surprise to me now but it was then, and I placed the treats on one of the countertops as I picked my way back to his bedroom.
Imagine my surprise to see him sprawled out in the bed with another man.
There he was, pinned underneath Rick when both looked in my direction. The look of shock on my face, the anger on Rick’s was indescribable. I was in such a state of shock I hadn’t noticed myself being beaten nearly to death with the baseball bat until I felt a crack in my ribs, so blinding with pain I thought I’d hurl. My eyes went black and I could hear the other man cry out with fear but he did not come physically to my aid. I’m sure that was for the best considering Rick’s temper. My legs were in such a horrendous state that I could not even feel them. I could not run as Rick continued to crack the bat along every limb on my body and shattered punches into my gut. I wanted to die then. The pain was so unbearable. I could no longer cry out. I thought I was dead…
That night had probably resulted in one of the worst beatings of my life, and the only thing that saved me was the man that had been pinned underneath Rick. An ambulance picked me up and hospitalized me for weeks, jaw broken, a couple of ribs cracked and bruises so large I looked like one giant bruise myself. I decided not to press charges against Rick, afraid of risking his rage if he was to get off or come out of jail. Instead, I headed for the hills.
Eirian’s ending was luckier, I’m afraid. He simply told her he met someone else, that guy I’m sure, and let her go. Of course she was hurt by it and made sure he knew it, so needless to say she didn’t leave without a scratch but hell, she wasn’t hospitalized. We both ended up heading for the hills. It was on the top of the little grassy knoll that we met each other. And I’m sure it’s no surprise after that experience that it’s safe to say that I hate men.
Enter my lesbianism. And there’s not a damn thing wrong with it. s**t.
After revealing my story to Eirian, we sat in silence for a moment. I had been puffing on perhaps my fourth cigarette for the night when she said something that would have probably changed my life forever. I remember how she looked that night, brown eyes cast downward and her short blonde hair tousled around the frame of her fair face. She’s a cute one, that’s easy to see, but there was something about her that night that seemed so child-like and fragile. She seemed truly hurt. And that made a part of me flare with determination to right the injustices that befell her.
“I hate that b*****d,” she whispered to her lap and I watched her silently, holding onto my cig, “sometimes I wish I could kill him.”
Now I don’t know if it was the need to right the wrongs, or maybe the nicotine rush to my brain, but far be it from me to tell you what the hell convinced me to hop into my little Honda Accord, but next thing I know I’m driving through downtown, past that haunting little tattoo parlor, northbound to a little place I haven’t been for over three months now. Wouldn’t Rick be in for a surprise.
Hidden within the confines of my leather jacket was the tell-tale silver glow of a kitchen knife. Of course, being November it didn’t look the least bit unusual to see a slinky girl like myself walking around in a leather coat. And it was just big enough to hide the knife in the hem too, away from view as I drove my little blue Honda down to Rick’s apartment. Eirian was completely silent beside me the whole time. The only noise coming from her was the rapid successions of her breathing.
We pulled into the parking lot and much to my delight I could see his onyx Kia parked in front of his porch. You could see the flicker of the television in his bedroom, and a glance at the clock revealed that it 12:10 AM. It seemed much like the perfect time to kill for me and I licked the bottom of my lips slowly before looking over at Eirian. Her brown eyes were transfixed on the glow coming from his bedroom window. I was wondering how she felt about all this, if she wanted to go through with it or turn back while we still could, but I could not muster the courage to ask her. Instead I opened up the car door, and got my answer when she followed suit.
Moving over to his front door I searched the top of his doorpost for the spare key. I was not surprised to find it there, like always, just like it was the last time I had snuck into Rick’s home. I wondered if he would be alone this time, because another person would certainly be an inconvenience in this case. Either way, I was going to succeed in gaining some justice from this. Nothing would keep me from that.
I opened the door slowly, careful not to make a noise as I stepped inside. That computer-generated laughter you usually hear on cheesy-sitcoms echoed to the entryway from his room and for a second it caused me to freeze in my spot. I wondered what I would do if he was to get up and come out of his room at that very moment. Would I charge him and go on a stabbing rampage? I had no idea…
I made a signal to Eirian to stay put by the front door as I tiptoed my way to where I knew Rick kept his fitness equipment. Funny, because the b*****d never used the stuff. Just liked to let it sit there and talk about how great it made his body. Of course they had never seen the man with his clothes off. Only I had gotten that pleasure. And one look from Rick to me just screamed, “Keep your mouth shut, Claire,” back then. Let him give me that look now. I’d slice out his eyeballs.
I spotted the jump rope sprawled out in the corner of the room, stuffed a little behind the treadmill. I reached for it, grasping it tightly in my hand before picking myself carefully across the fitness equipment and making my way up back to where Eirian stood silently. She looked at me, and then the rope, but said nothing. I did not need her to.
We made our way back to the blue-glowing room, and I remember swallowing roughly. I was so nervous my heart was pounding like a damn jack rabbit in my throat but somehow I still felt my body moving. When I stood in the doorway I thought my heart would leap clean out of my chest. Resting comfortably, still fully clothed, was dear little Maverick. It brought a sickened sneer to my face. I looked back at my darling, and nodded.
We went into action quickly. She raced over to the bed and leaned over to him, pinning him down to the bed as best she could. He stirred, disoriented, and blinked around in the dim light as he tried to make out what was going on. I could hear a delirious, “Wha…?” slip out from his lips as he continued to struggle against her weight on his arms and try to comprehend what the hell was stirring him from his sleep. I would allow him no time to gain full consciousness however, before I was tossing the damn rope so tight around him his arms were bound to his sides like they were stuck with super glue. While I started doubling the knot was when the bewilderment started giving way to bon-a-fide fear.
“Wait. What the ********… what the ******** is this? Who the ******** are you?”
You could hear the tremble in his anger and I have to admit now that it sort of empowered me. A part of me was a little smarter now that I was no longer in love with him, and I knew now I had the upper hand. I removed the blade from my coat jacket and muttered to my girlfriend, “Keep him down.” She was obedient to my orders.
Moving over to the light switch I flicked it on, and watched him blink in the newly suffused room. When he looked over at me you could see his jaw quite literally drop. Double-over, when he saw who was pinning him down.
“What… the ********. Wait, what the ********? What the hell are you bitches doing…”
I couldn’t take it. “Shut the ******** up, Maverick.”
It was amusing to see him like a puppy, snapping his jaw shut so tight he could’ve snapped bone. His eyes were locked onto the knife in my hand and I think he knew just what I was going to do with it. Truth be told, I didn’t know what to do with it. But I knew whatever it was, it was going to hurt. I wanted that b*****d to hurt. And I wanted him to hurt bad…
“Remember me?” I questioned in a mocking manner, removing my leather jacket and throwing it to the floor. I swung the blade back and forth in front of my face, giving our victim a sinister smile. He looked less than pleased, a part of him still very angry as he gave me a rather fuming expression and fought to flip Eirian off of him. He almost succeeded, but she managed to catch herself and reposition herself a little better this time, punching him rather roughly on his arm so that a solid thud resounded in the room. That made me smile.
He groaned, “What do you want?”
What did I want? What was I doing there? I knew my intent was something murderous, but what had caused me to snap to the point of doing this with no remorse? Had it been the hurt in Eirian’s eyes that caused me to do this? A girl that I had stumbled on weeks ago and already felt bound to by worlds and dimensions? Or maybe it was my own pain and anguish, and I was just ready to give it back ten-fold. Either way, I knew I wanted to be satisfied. I knew that this would do it.
But what exactly was it that I would be doing?
“Satisfaction.” I hissed to him, narrowing my eyes and raising the blade rather dangerously.
I had been in a hospital for weeks. Went through more pain imaginable for any man. Had been in positions I never imagined as I was a little girl. Lost touch with my mother, who probably assumed I was dead by now… Been both emotionally abused and physically scarred and the doctor said it was probably for life. I was even referred to a psychiatrist, but after the first week I knew I didn’t want to see that b***h. And then I meet a girl. Who went through the same s**t I did…
For who?
For this b*****d.
And what more, the effects of him was now permanently etched into my skin. I was supposed to be his little trapped rose. But this time I would be turning the key. I would be letting myself go.
That’s when I got an idea.
I ripped at the bottom of my jeans and revealed what was hidden there to him. The tattoo he had given to me. The one that meant that I belonged to him forever. Like I said, forever doesn’t last very long. And I gave him a quirk of my lips and a raise of my brow as I watched his eyes study it carefully. And then they looked back up to my face. He said nothing but I could see the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple.
“Remember this?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I felt like Lorena Bobbitt.
Moving over to him beside the bed I shooed Eirian and sat on him myself. Ripping down his pants I reached down for what made him that b*****d of a man that took away everything I ever had. Who used what he had so often to ******** other people’s lives up. I was going to end that. But not the way he thought.
I placed the blade to the skin of his… well… no need to go into that, and began to carve the shape of a rather crude-looking key. He wailed and thrashed in pain, but I continued to hack and carve until I made my bloody creation.
“See? The key! You keep your stupid key you b*****d!” I screamed with every hack, trying to outdo his yelling. And right when he seemed to reach a crescendo in his yells there was a devastating crash, a darkness, and then absolute silence. Eirian had whacked him over the head with a lamp. I was satisfied. He was dead.
Throwing my leg over I went up to him and allowed my lips one last brush against his cheek and gave him a wicked grimace. “Don’t wake up.” I muttered, and proceeded in cleaning the blade on his shirt. I looked to Eirian. We both knew what we had to do next.
Now here we are. We’re in a motel in Utah, heading over to California. Eirian is asleep now. We dumped Rick’s body in the ocean and soon after I called up my grandmother. I told her that I was safe and that I needed to start my life over and get away from where I was now. She asked no questions. I love that about my grandmother.
Now Eirian and I are heading out there to start a new life. New identities. Everything… I even asked my grandmother to lend me the money to help me remove these damn tattoos and she agreed. She told me it would hurt, but I don’t care. I’m pretty used to pain by this point. Plus, it’ll feel good to be released from Maverick’s lock forever. Even though somehow I know I’ll never forget all of this...
I’m writing this down just in case on our way to California the police catch us in some kind of shoot-out and kill us. At least this way my story can be told. Someone is bound to find this paper somewhere in our car, right? I hope so… Either way, I know this much is for sure. It feels good to feel the breeze on my petals again.
I’m sure Eirian feels the same way.
~ Claire
