His Tattoo

A Rare Rose

My mind is fuzzy, the last remnants of last night being chased away by the realisation that I am awake. The sunlight bathed my skin as I lay on my side. I tried closing my eyes.

What had happened yesterday was something I didnt want to deal with today. Thoughts bit at my brain, forbidding me to go back to sleep.I looked around to find an unfamiliar room. I rose up from the bed only to realize i had been naked.

Oh god.

Pieces of last nights memory continue to scatter along my mind.

Slowly I tried to get up, but quickly realized how futile the pain was when I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through my head and colorful spots flashed in front of my eyes, it felt like my lower body had been ran over by a bus and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Regardless, I needed to get out of here, and get home.

I forced myself up, and stumble over to the mirror to view my appearance. I grab my long, brunette, wavy hair. With the rubber band I found on my wrist, I struggled to tie it. Hickeys ran down from my neck to my chest.

I gasp, reaching for my clothes that were scattered across the room, hurrying to put them on.

I couldn't make out who the man was from yesterday night, but two things stood vivid about his appearance;He had jet black hair and a tattooed single rose that reached from his wrist to the thumb of his hand.

I questioned if I've ever seen the charming man, but quickly remember I live in Las Vegas;Over two million people live in Las Vegas, so I hardly doubt we ever met or will meet again.

Grabbing my belongings, I sneak down stairs to find it mostly empty. A few people were passed out along the floors.

I didn't bring my purse with me, no cash, nothing but my phone.
I exit the house and begin to walk to my apartment, mind filled with the memories of last night.

After 15 minutes, I'm at my doorstep attempting to remove my phone case to grab the house key inside it.

I walk into the room and immediately head to my bedroom. Reaching for the bedside lamp, I stopped and withdrew my hand. The photograph of my mother had been turned out to face the room. It was always facing towards me, towards the bed, not away from it... In the darkness, what had felt safe before now felt frightening: the way the dressing-table mirror reflected the street-light through the curtains and the sight of the wardrobe door left slightly ajar.

I deeply inhale a fresh breath of air and bury myself into the stiff mattress.

Tomorrow's work. I wish I didn't have to work, but I have to pay rent every month for this place. Exactly $723 dollars every month. That is a lot for this tiny shit. Best part is, I get paid $10 dollars an hour.  Isn't that a generous payment?

That was totally sarcastic. I've been working for 5 months and still, no promotion. The pay fucking sucks. But I'm a waitress, so I tend to get a decent amount of tips.

Not to mention that school starts in TWO DAYS. Which by the way, I never get nervous around this time, mainly because I know everyone at school and most people seem to get along with me. But I haven't spoke to anybody or posted to my social media since the release of summer, so I'm looking forward as to seeing how that goes.

Never had a few moments seemed like an eternity as I feel my consciousness ebbing away, and my thoughts, as clear and concise as they were mere moments ago, were coming to an end. I Slipped off into darkness.