Page 7 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

Glancing down at my hands, I begin to pick at my fingernails, doing my best to pull away any skin that may have been broken or bruised during the moonlight tryst.

Once I’m satisfied that at least my hands won’t give me away, I glance at the bills Simon dropped, then stand up.

I’m so goddamn sore that I almost sit back down again.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath, reach for my old jeans, and pull them up, before I lean down and scoop up my “payment.”

I laugh.

It’s not the amount I was expecting.

All of that shit he put me through for only two of the hundred promised.

With a shake of my head, I shove the money into my pocket, then notice something else on the ground.

Curiosity gets the better of me as I reach down and pick it, up then grimace at the dull pain that’s starting to settle back in again.

Shoving the card into my back pocket, I stumble out of the alley as quickly as I can, hoping that maybe tonight, I can find someone hard up enough for some cash that they’ll give me something,anything,for the two dollars burning a hole in my pocket.

___

The way home was lit not just by moonlight, but the feeling that I had managed to do some good after all.

I found one of my usual dealers that knows that I’m always good for any money owed who sold me a couple of Hydros,promising me that it would do the trick until I had enough to get Etta her usual.

As soon as I walked into our little home, I would crush them, wake her up and let her know that everything would be okay for however long this shit lasted in her system.

She’d try to fuck me, and I’d have to find a way to keep her at bay until I healed, but as I walked down the same black cobblestone street, I found myself wondering if I would have the strength to reject Etta.

___

“At last,my love has come along …”

I gently run a hand over Etta’s hair and wait for her to wake up to the crooning voice of her namesake.

She’s had a rough couple of days, but now that I’ve got something that might make her feel better, it’s time for her to open her eyes.

Granted, I know better than to try and jostle her awake because I know violent she can get when she’s sketching, so letting the velvety tenor of one of the best soul singers in that ever lived rouse her out of her sleep.

Poor, fragile thing,I think fondly as she shifts slightly on the bed.

I follow suit, moving from one foot to the other, willing the dull pain away. I need to keep a brave face for her when she opens her eyes.

And even through the Hell I managed to endure tonight, I can never blame her for my own choices.

I even sometimes find myself wondering where I would be without her and usually land on the same conclusion.

Either prison or dead.

Both are melancholy options, but they couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’ve never really been a very good person, hell, I never even tried to be.

But it was alwaysher, that kept me from going too far.

Etta Westbrook and her long, dark brown hair, sleepy, frost-blue colored eyes, and fractured smile.

She always has a kind word for me, never hesitates to point out the good I’ve done for her, and loves me unconditionally.

---