Scarlet Rose

Chapter 28

He opened his eyes with the weight of the world on his eyelids. The light of day found him, still dressed from the night before, lying on the bed facing the ceiling. He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his hand on his skull. Pain was throbbing against it. He had no idea what time it was, how long was he sleeping. Last thing he remembered was speaking to Rose over the telephone. She had been at home, but not alone. He knew that much. Once their taxi had sped away from Lord Wooster's mansion, it took him one perhaps a couple of draws from the cigarette he was smoking at the stairs, to realise he should have been with her.  Instead, that Graham fellow had gone with her.  Christian had jumped on the next car available. It had stopped further down the road from where Rose's house was. The dark of the night had just spread, but he could tell, she wasn't going through the door alone. After that, he didn't remember how long he stood on his spot, having not taken his eyes off the lit living room windows.  Battled within, whether to get closer. Knock her door. He had sensed Terrence was interested in his girlfriend. Ever since the gallery, Christian had this feeling. Rose was a beautiful woman. This wasn't the first time others were attracted to her. It wasn't the first time someone had made his feelings show for her, even. But this brooding man had been different. Despite having calmed down at the party, the way he had looked at Rose in front of Christian's painting of her - by God, he could swear - if no one else was around, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and take her with him by force. As if she belonged to him.

Christian felt a knot in his stomach. Rose was his woman. As with everything else being new in this relationship, she had brought all those new found feelings inside of him. Had he not been thrown in the deep end of troubles with the London underworld of men living in the shadows, pulling all kinds of strings to make people move how they liked...he would have acted very differently at the party. He had felt possessive of his woman in front of this stranger. How could she have invited him in the first place? Or had he sweet talked his way through? However with what had transpired a few hours back, did he have the right to fight for her still?

Wouldn't she be safer if he broke up with her? The thought made him stop breathing.

He sighed. He pushed himself off the bed in an attempt to get up. He felt like he had been in a head on collision with a train. Flashbacks of the fists and the kicks crushing his sides sprung in his mind. He sat upright, rubbed his face against his opened palms. His mind was numb. He had to put himself under the shower. His moves were heavy, as heavy as a sack full of stones. Undressed in slow motion. Every movement was a struggle. He got under the open shower, and rested his palms on the tiles. His stare turned blank, as the water dripped over the face. He had to get ready. Work through the mess. But to meet with Rose...The more he postponed it, the worse it would become. She should get away from him. Perhaps he could talk her into leaving back for the States. If he was to break up with her...

Anger filled his veins. Hell, he loved her. Rose had come to mean everything to him. Had turned his life for her. A life which he had been so stupid to see where it led. Fucking naive schmuck that he had been. Playing out his Robin Hood fantasy, just to feel morally superior, sticking two fingers to a class he never belonged. Empty people, empty heads, empty hearts.  He ended siding with psychopaths like McDonald who now had him by the balls. Stealing from the rich to feed the poor...who had he been fooling? It was all about him. About him feeling good for the shit life had served him. For having been abandoned by parents who never wanted him.  How could have been so stupid? Tending his own ego. He passed his hand over the steamed up mirror, stared at his face looking blurred through the wet mist. His grey eyes had darkened. A storm had broken into them. Self hate bubbled. Like a lightning, his fist landed hard on the mirror. Where he stared at his face, now stood his broken reflection. He kept looking, staying silent. He should break up with her. If he wanted her to be safe...