Warning this story with contain: heavy smoking, recreational drug use, implied self harm, implied rape, explicit scenes
Hazel blue eyes jutted around unsure where she had just awakened. Looking around she was surrounded by shelves upon shelves all lined with tomes. There seemed to be so many in fact that this place required multiple levels. Her brows pinched in confusion.
'Why am I in a library,' her mind wandered as she continued taking in the details of the enormous room she found herself in. The ground was marbled like the walls. Paintings hung on the walls in the free spaces on the walls that she couldn't make out. Vases and statues sporadically placed gave the impression that whoever owned this place had wealth.
Her gaze slowly focused on the center of the room seeing a large ornate rug with an antique chaise lounge and two matching arm chairs placed around a large coffee table. Her pale eyes zeroed in on the chair nearest to her to find it occupied by a large figure.
Curious as a cat, she crept forward staying as silent as she could with her bare feet on the chilled floor. The more she drew nearer the more detail of the person she could process in the low light of the room. It was a male with flowing raven colored hair. His skin was so pale it was almost see through.
'And I thought I was pale,' she thought. Her skin was close to the color of paper and was blinding when in the sun, which she rarely ever did.
This young looking man appeared to be in agony with his shoulders hunched and head bowed in defeat. 'What had caused this feeling?' The pang in her heart had her forget about her attempt in being stealthy. Approaching him the thought of turning around and running in the other direction crossed her mind for the uncertainty in her gut began to make itself known. That didn't stop her. No, acting uncharacteristic she reached out to touch the man on his shoulder trying to comfort him in some way.
As soon as the weight of her hand was placed on him, his face shot up and his strikingly red colored eyes bore into blue. The intake of her breath was audible when she saw the man's chiseled god-like features. His age appeared between nineteen, maybe twenty. Other than the odd colored eyes he appeared normal.
'Contacts, right? Hell, I've worn colored contacts before,' her mind rationalizing considering her own alternative lifestyle. 'Though in 2006 contacts were pretty expensive if this was the man's house he was probably more than capable of affording them.' Returning to the present moment with a twitch of her head.
"Are you okay," her voice filled with concern for the sorrow filled male, knowing well enough how despair felt especially with all the things life had thrown her way as of late.
The milky red eyes that had been focused on her face glazed over for just a moment before returning to focus. Pain that once emitted from his eyes was replaced by, 'Could that be joy,' mind echoing as she lost her being inside the depth of his orbs. His toned arms wrap around her scantily clad body pulling her onto his lap. Her being enveloped by this stranger set alarm bells off. 'I shouldn't be here,' her qualms quietened when the young man started speaking.
"What took you so long," a deep velvety tone caressed her ears causing a shiver to run down her spine. His hands were roaming over top the two sizes to big shirt she slept in. Her mind though hazy could only think one thing, 'I need to get out of his embrace, but it feels so right.'
Brows creased once again, she finds her voice, "Huh?"
"Where have you been all my life," his head buried between my head and shoulders, placing light pecks on her neck.
Mind almost blank from the intense amount of desire that pumped through her veins, she said the only place that immediately came to mind, "Texas." It wasn't where she currently live, but being that she was born and raised and held so many memories, especially with what happened there recently, it was the first to mind.
"How did you manage your way past the guards, cara mia," his voice soft and full of curiosity.
"G-guards," her's breaking.
The anxiety of ongoing events tore through the lust filled haze she was under. 'I'm not supposed to be here.' Big brain trying to remember where she had been before her eyes opened in this room. 'Come on, Amarantha, think!'
The mysterious man's hand raised her chin to be level with his, "It matters not," face drawing nearer to hers, "I've got you now." Right as his lips pressed against hers the electric jolt that coursed through her caused herself to be pulled away.
March 2nd, 2006
Slowly shifting her body she felt the familiar plushy top of her mattress underneath. Panting from the overbearing emotions that she still felt from her dream, she laid there staring up at the ceiling. 'What the fuck is wrong with me,' feeling guilty for having a happy dream for once. Don't get her wrong she enjoyed having pleasant dreams and more often than not she had nightmares. You'd think she'd be grateful for such a lovely dream, but it was the complete opposite.
It's only been little over a month since her father passed and her already overactive emotions have become turbulent. Her normally reacquiring depression was multiplied by ten and her ever flipping emotions had become more frequent. The constant roller coast she'd been riding had taken its toll on her. The bags under her eyes where a permanent part of her face, she was convinced and her sleeping hadn't been as restful as of late. So in her opinion now wasn't the time to be having dreams about overly handsome strange men.
With a sigh she fumbled around for her glasses on the nightstand and placed them on her oval shaped face before rising out of the queen sized bed. Her feet touched the linoleum floor of the two bed, one bath trailer she rented. Simultaneously stretching and yawning before she adventured to the restroom. She flipped the switch to the overhead, illuminating the tub shower combo, porcelain toilet and counter topped sink with make up littered everywhere.
She glanced in the mirror and grimaced at her appearance. The normally wavy hair was matted from the previous days teasing, residual makeup left on her pierced face smudge everywhere. Taking a comb on the counter top she spent a good twenty minutes undoing the back combing she had done. Losing only one or two strands of her split dyed hair when complete she began to strip the oversized shirt and granny panties from her plus-sized body.
Looking at herself once more she stared at her well endowed chest with pierced rosy pink nipples before lowering over her high waist to her stomach that slightly bulged, from her groomed fat peach and to the thick thighs scattered with scars and tattoos over them trying to cover up her past. Turning to the side she looked at the healed wounds of the most recent tattoo before drifting down to her rounded backside.
She knew fully well that she was fat, but in her words she described herself as 'pleasantly plump.' Shrugging her broad shoulders she decided to trim both sides of her removing the new growth of hair from blocking the geometric tattoos from view. She left her long sideburns alone as always. Satisfied, leaving the hair in the sink, the 5 ft. 6 in. woman stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. She proceeded to wash her hair and body ridding it of the previous day's grime and little hair particles. The smell of her apple scented hair products and pomegranate body wash perfumed the bathrooms air.
Out of the shower she towel dried herself after having wrapped her black and red hair up keeping the rest of her massive mane out of the way. While naked she applied lotion all over her skin making sure to rub it in considering most of her skin was covered in ink and needed to be maintained. Once her body was moisturized she put some face cream to prepare her skin for the thick layer of makeup she generally wore.
Exiting the bathroom she crossed the small distance over to her laundry room to slip on her black push up bra and matching underwear. Today was a dress up day which required many layers of feel good items starting off with under clothes. Privates covered to the world she headed back to her bedroom to stand in front of her closet.
'Now which dress do I want to where,' she debated between going for 1950s pinup or the traditional multilayered black ensemble she went with she decided on the former. Stepping out of her comfort zone just barely by it being a white polka dotted on black dress with a halterneck strap, red seams over the bust for shaping, waistband with red piping in its seams, five red buttons on the center front bodice, and a full circle skirt with a long black petticoat underneath.
She slipped the dress on over her towel wrapped head after stepping into sheer black hosiery. Her arms struggled with the back zipper of the dress, but with some awkward positioning had managed to do so. Finally clothed she grabbed her robe and placed it over her dress. She walked to her kitchen slash living room to grab her pack of cigarettes and litter before heading to the back door of the trailer.
Stepping out in the frigid air of the Olympic peninsula she opened her pack taking one out. Placing it to her lips she sparked her lighter, holding it to the end of the cigarette and slowly puffed on it to light. Releasing the first long drag she took her mind went off into recent memories.
January 30th, 2006
The bulky flip phone she kept near her while she working in her make shift studio started to ring. If the vibration wasn't on she would have never known she had a phone call with the heavy, industrial metal sound of Rammstein blaring through the CD player's speakers. Seeing the name of her sister on the screen caused her to pause a moment.
The last time they had spoke was a month ago when she said that our father's health had taken a dive, but was stable. He'd been suffering from a myriad of health problems ranging from diabetes to congestive heart failure with a sprinkle of Alzheimer's. Life had been hard trying to be a caregiver to their sick father especially when "she didn't look how a southern lady should," his words not her own.
His disapproval of her choices were always voiced anytime he'd see her. The things he'd say would always destroy the little girl inside her that loved her father very much and wanted to help. His words cut deep more often than not which had her already unstable psyche to become unhinged, which in the end helped her. She went on to get help for herself and had been doing so for three years now.
She knew that this wasn't her father anymore. The man she knew was kind and selfless. Maybe not always understanding why things happened but always accepting. He was a dad that didn't have to be. Her sister and her were his grandchildren from his only daughter, who left them at a young age. But that hadn't matter to him and his late wife having raised them as their own.
So it became an internal struggle for Amara when it came down to staying to help take care of their dad and risk loosing her battle with mental health or to move away and focus on taking care of herself. For once in her life, she had decided to be selfish and live her life. Where her sister, Jasmine, being the strong one, stayed and has been taking care of him by herself for two years now.
She turned the music off and answered, "Hey, what's up?"
"Are you sitting down," came the stoic voice of Jasmine.
"Yes," Amara's heart began to pick up pass upon hearing the little sniffles her sister had through the receiver. This meant that this wasn't going to be good.
"Its dad. I think you need to get down here as soon as possible, Ami," hearing her sister inhale a shaky breath, "He had a stroke last night and the doctors say he won't recover from this one."
Heart dropping into her gut that felt punched, tears immediately started to leak from her eyes. 'Dad,' her only thought. "I'll book the first flight out."
No words of comfort passed through either sister as they knew nothing could be said at this moment to help. The only thing that would, would be when she finally landed there in Texas. Her heart broke for her sister. Jasmine had to grow up at a very young age to raise her when their non biological mother past away. Amara hadn't always viewed her sister with high regards till she grew older seeing everything Jasmine sacrificed for her to have as good of a childhood as she could. Even after Amara grew up, when Jasmine could finally be free to do what she wanted she sacrificed her freedom again to be the sole caregiver of their dad. Now her sister would be alone on the family's ranch, maybe finally able to live for herself.
Amarantha vowed she would be there for her sister through the whole funeral process and help her grieve was best as she could. Even if it meant she would have to move back. She'd do anything.
March 2nd, 2006
Returning from her memory with the cigarette burnt out, she tossed it in the old coffee can she used to keep the butts. Walking into the warm trailer she took a quick glance at the time and saw that she had more than enough time to do her over exaggerated makeup and hair. With a thick coat off white foundation, drawn in black eyebrows, a black and red cut-crease, winged out eye look and vibrant red lips applied she focused on drying her still wet hair.
Massaging in a little moose she proceeded to blow dry her hair as the hair crimper she turned on heated. Once the hair was dry she sectioned out what hair she had and crimped each one. With some back coming and hair spray she was able to mold her hair into a barrel roll on top of her head.
Feeling completed in her look she hair sprayed her hair to her face to lock everything into place. Untying her robe, she hung it up behind the door, and made sure everything was off before closing it behind her. Looking amazing made her feel amazing even with all that had happened. It's been a long time since she finally felt an once of happiness and one part of her brain kept telling her it was to soon, to wallow in self pity.
'You sicken me. Already dressing up, being happy and its only been little over a month? Bleh no wonder no one wants you,' that bitch in her head sneered.
Amara bit her tongue, pain shooting to her brain, quieting the voice for a mire moment. 'Nice try, sweet cheeks, but the only way to get rid of me is to die,' the voice cackled, 'You die, I die because I am you, you dummy.'
Within two steps Amara reached the kitchen counter that had her pills on it. Picking up the pill organizer she noticed she forgot to take last nights medication. "No wonder I'm hearing you," she voiced allowed to the empty trailer.
'Oh come on, you really think this medication is helping you? You were doing so much better without it. I swear you can do it without anything if you tried,' the sickness with in her mind goaded.
"Never again," she spoke taking the pills with a bottle of water she kept near.
In an instant, that part of her was silent and she continued her morning with coffee, food and another smoke break before heading to her second bedroom turned art studio.
Her hosed feet glided over the smooth surface as she entered the room almost slipping. Catching herself before landing on her fat ass she straightened up and walked carefully to the desk covered in sketches. Picking up her three latest drawings she placed them in her plastic accordion folder under the tab marked clients.
She picked up her mess from the previous night, replacing a black bounded book on one of the four bookshelves she had lining the walls, and gathering the trash. With empty wine bottles and discarded wrappers in hand she left the space to throw everything away, returning shortly to grab the folder.
Closing the door to her safe haven upon leaving it she placed her folder by her backpack that she used as a purse. Checking the time once more she almost cursed. The time was thirty minutes till three with meant she needed to leave then.
Rushing to her room she slide her feet into a pair of red kitten heels and her long black trench coat over her arms. Briskly walking back to her kitchen table she put all of her essential items for work, including the folder cigarettes and leftovers, in the backpack and placed it over her shoulders. With keys and umbrella in hand she headed out the front door, locking the bottom and top locks behind her.
Thankful the rain had subsided she slow but steadily walked to her '03 Pathfinder, unlocking the vehicle she nick-named Ol' Betsie. Placing the bag gently in the seat next to her she started the car and headed to work.
3:15 pm
Pulling into the parking lot of the only tattoo parlor in Forks, located on its outskirts. Amara drove her car to her usual space in the back, parked and got out. Her brisk footsteps with bag and umbrella in her hands, she made it inside the building before the clouds let loose a bone chilling rain.
The sterile scent of the parlor greeted her along with the bright florescent lighting. A quick scan of the room, she noticed the shop owner and close friend, Luke Uley, wasn't back here. 'Must be busy up front.' Gliding over to her corner of the backroom, close to the door leading to the front, she placed her bag on the smooth table surface.
Grabbing her items that she'd need out of the worn canvas bag, she placed it on the back of the chair she sat in when not at her work station. She took her lunch and placed it in the refrigerator that stood next to the microwave and a kitchen sink. The sound of rock music was heard a brief moment when door to the front part of the shop swung open.
"How's my favorite artist doing today," the cheerful brass voice of Luke boomed.
"Pfft, favorite artist.. I'm your only artist, Sweet Cheeks," the eye roll heard in her unenthusiastic sarcasm.
"Ouch, Ami," his hand went over his heart feigning to be crushed, "you wound me. Wake up on the wrong side of the coffin again?"
His light tease made the smallest of smiles crack her mask before she wiped it away. Turning toward Luke, she walked up to him slow and sensual. Stopping in front of the 6 ft. man she raised to his ear to whisper, "You and I both know I don't sleep in a coffin."
She bit the lobe of his ear gently before quickly side stepping the bulk of a man. Dancing away from his meaty arms that tried to wrap themselves around her. Though the pair had spent a few nights in each others company they remained only friends, really good friends. Each knew they weren't exactly what the other wanted, but still cared for each other the same.
"Dammit Amarantha," he growled, "You know how I am abut my ears."
She could only smirk at him from over at the table where her folder laid. Picking the half filled portfolio and pulled out the three sketches she's done early that week. Each sketch had a similarities according to what my client had wanted. Him being one of my most loyal customers made this piece very important. He was getting a tattoo in memory of his mother he lost the year prier.
The first design was of her favorite flowers accompanied with hummingbirds that happened to be a favorite of hers as well. The second was more like a painting consisting of a wooded scene filled with colorful flowers and life. The final wasn't exactly what he had requested. It was a design she took liberty with. It was a white tea cup with blue lacing detail and a hummingbird perched upon the lip, remembering the times he talked about his mothers love of a cup of tea and watching the birds play on her porch. Each piece incorporated her birth and death date to forever be remembered, at least by her son.
Being absorbed in her sketches, she didn't notice Luke's presence behind her till his overly warm arms hugged her from behind. "Are these for Aaron?"
"Yeah," her only reply.
"They each look really good, Ami. I'm sure he'll have a hard time choosing," Luke, as always, being enthusiastic.
Amara shook her head, her mind telling her, like normal, that she could have done better. The strive for perfection was a constant battle for her. The lowering her standards necessary or she'd never be happy, but when it came to what she was passionate about, which was her work, her standards where doubled. She would never settle for anything less when it came to permanently coloring onto someone's body.
"I don't know," sounding unsure, "I always feel like I'm missing something."
She was quickly spun around to face the warm chocolate eyes Luke possessed, to bore into her own blue ones. "Amarantha, you need to get your confidence back. These," pointing down to the pictures in her hands, "are perfect."
'No they're not,' echoed with in her mind.
Glancing through the papers once more, she released a sigh, "I wish I saw what you see."
There was a comfortable silence that enveloped the two adults. One russet in color, the other gravely pale. The lack of conversation didn't last long. The huff of a breath from the older male broke the silence.
"You know I understand if you need more time, Amarantha. Its only been a few days since you've been back.."
Cutting Luke off, "I need my routine back. I need normalcy."
"You need to come back when you're ready."
"But I am," her southern drawl peaking out the more the building emotions she tried to bury resurface, "I cain't just sit 'round and do nothin'. I ain't my eleven year old self who was lost. Imma twenty-three year old woman just tryin' to make it."
"And you think its best to just pretend nothing happened," his concerned question made her heart ache.
"I ain't pretending nothin'. He's gone, Luke, he's been gone for years. I've done my grievin' then. Now its time I move forward."
"What about Jasmine?"
"I," 'miss her' pausing before murmuring, "I haven't spoken to her since I left."
"Amara.."
It's not like she didn't want to speak to her sister. The argument they had before Amara stormed out of their family's country home, leaving her sister and state behind. It only happening a few days ago that had the memory freshly on repeat in her mind. Hurtful words had been said, though said while in an overly emotional state and each regretting have said them, drove the two sisters further apart. A tear slid down her left cheek thinking about Jasmine's last words to her. "Don't you ever come back. Know that you're unwelcome here and won't be let in. The lawyers will send you what dad left you. From this moment onward you're nothing to me."
"Look we've grown apart in more ways than one. Don't get me wrong, we'll always be sisters and I love her, but I can't be in her life when she can't except me and my choices," finally calming down enough to attempt to re-control the southern twain, fibbing to her friend.
Turning away from the man that could read her like a book, she sat the sheets of paper on the surface so she could grab a cigarette from her bag. "I'm going outside."
"You know you should really try quitting, right," his face no longer happy, but burdened.
She grabbed the umbrella she brought with her before walking out of his grasp with ease muttering, "Yeah, yeah," on her way outside.
She opened the umbrella quickly to protect herself from getting wet, thankful for not taking off her coat. The pitter patter of the rain hitting the pavement was music to her ears. The need for fresh air had been of great importance to Amara, as the feeling of utter loneliness consumed her heart.
Of course she knew she had friends, that were few and far between, but she no longer had family. Family mattered a great deal to her which was why she had planned to move back. Arriving home she had hoped Jasmine and her could reconnect and become the best of friends, like the old days. What greeted her was bitter resentment from the time she had lived away.
'Everything will be okay,' she tried reassuring herself while shakily smoking.
'Why lie to yourself,' came that voice.
Not this part of her again. 'Why did I have to be born with a chemical imbalance,' woefully thought knowing that there's no answer.
'Just lucky, I guess,' cackled the voice.
'I won't let you have power over me, again. You just end up hurting us in the end,' standing her ground to herself. She will not let the sickness take her mind. Every time she had she ended up in life threatening situations caused by it. The recklessness, sleepless nights, flipping emotions on a dime (which lets be honest has been harder to control the last month), were all things she didn't need right now.
'No matter the amount of medication, therapy, or self help you do, I'll always be here. Waiting for you to slip.'
A shiver shot down her spine from her own minds promise. Finishing off her smoke with on last drag she, irresponsibly, tossed the butt on the ground and headed back into the dry environment.
"Done killing yourself?"
Looking up from the ground, Embry Call, Luke's annoying cousin, was standing in the middle of the room. "Oh ain't I just lucky to be graced by your presents," Amara's head tilting to one side staring the kid down. It had been well over a month since she last saw the bugger and he had changed. No longer was there an average looking teen, he looked as if he lived only at the gym.
"Man, Luke wasn't lying when he said to tip toe around you."
"What's that suppose to mean," her eyes narrowed, hurting silently behind the mask.
The teen shrugged is shoulders, "I don't know, maybe that you're in a mood?"
Setting the umbrella at the door, she made her way toward her table. Huffing, "I'm not in a mood. Where's your cousin anyways?"
"Uh-uh, sure," sounding unconvinced, "He's in the restroom."
Amara closed her eyes and took a deep breath before sighing, "I'm sorry for coming off moody. Its been a long month, Em. How've you been? Last I remember you had the flu really bad."
His demeanor changed from relaxed to tense in second, "I'm g-good. Got over it pretty quick."
"You know there's such a thing as to much gym time, right?"
"What," he smiled brightly, "Oh do you mean these." He flexed his muscles in an attempt to impress her. All she could do was scoff at his show of masculinity. The little dork always had the personality of a goofball, even with his new found bulk it peaked through.
"Yeah, why don't you put those away before you hurt someone," Amara humored, "Cool down on the protein shakes. They're making you more of a meathead, Meathead."
"I'm not a meathead, Bat brain."
"You know what, I ain't offended," she said with a smile. Man did she miss being around people she liked and vice versa.
The chime of the front door opening alerted the duo of someone coming in. With a, "Be right back," Amara passed through the swinging door.
"Amara, I'm so glad you're back," Aaron, my client, stood near the counter at the front entrance. His graying red hair swept back, his rugged, thick beard and startling green eyes made her almost swoon every time she met with the older gentleman.
"Aaron, one of my favorite canvas, its good to be back," she walked over to him and gave a side hug to him.
"How are you holding up," came his gravely voice.
"I'm good, good. I'm fine, just fine," hoping if she repeated it enough maybe she'd even by her own lie. "Let me get you started on this lovely paper work and I'll go get what I've drawn."
She walked around the counter and grabbed one of the forms clients generally had to fill out. Placing it and a pen in front of where he moved to, Amara left him to complete the short sheet. The click of her heels on the tiled floor announced her arrival in the backroom were Luke and Embry seemed to have been discussing something important. Each quickly stopped and looked her way as if to question why she would intrude. Sliding off her coat she tossed it over her chair when she approached her area.
"Aaron's here. Just gonna grab these," she said as her hands lifted the three sketches. 'Note to self. Be nosy and ask Luke what that was about.'
Returning to the front, Aaron let out a whistle, "Damn. I'm defiantly glad you're my artist and not Luke. He'd never look as good in a dress."
Amara chortled, "Well ain't you a flatterer."
Behind the counter once more, she handed the man the papers as she took his filled out form and ID he already had out. Copying the license on the back she one word, "Wow."
Amara couldn't help but bite her lip near her spider bites. 'Please be a good wow, please be a go-.'
"This is it," she spun around with the form, license copied on the back, and ID in her other manicured hand to look at Aaron as he spoke, "You captured her. How'd you know she loved tea?"
He had chosen the third design that she had been worried that he'd hate. Releasing her lip, "I remember you mentioning it a time or two. Is there anything you like to add or change?"
His eyes lifted off the paper, a smile of gratitude wide across his round face before shaking his head, "I appreciate you listening to this old man ramble about his mother."
Rolling her eyes, "You're not that old, Aaron."
"I feel it," he paused briefly almost hesitant to ask, "How much to buy the two other designs from you?"
Amara's eyebrows rose, not expecting him to ask to by her art work. "Nothing you can have them. They're meant for you anyways."
His eyes roamed over her face, "You've got to be the most benevolent person I know."
She stood there under his praising stare awkwardly shifting side to side. She never knew how to take complements especially ones she didn't believe. Resorting to humor as her defense, "Now you're bein' full of it. I'm quite the opposite. Now are we set on the colors I have there or do you want to change them?"
Her effort to change to subject worked for the time being as they discussed the colors he wanted. Aaron handed her the one that he wanted keeping the other two. She had him sit in on of the waiting chairs before excusing herself to transfer the design to a stencil.
Up front once more she place the stencil down on her work stations desk. She turn and set up the chair in the position for this tattoo she was about to do. Calling Aaron over she sanitized the chair and work surfaces in front of him before having him to take over the chair. While he got comfortable after taking his jacket and shirt off, she gathered the rest of her supplies.
Looking at his back though she saw no hair shaved over is right shoulder. She placed the stencil and had him take a look at it in one of the many mirrors in the parlor. He gave the thumbs up to proceed and with out hesitation she became engrossed in her art. It wasn't till two hours passed that her concentration broke when completing the tattoo.
Aaron stood in the mirror in awe of the newest addition to his plethora of tattoos. "It's so nice when someone is so passionate about what they do," Aaron's voice tender, "You really are an amazing artist."
Amara paused in her movements of cleaning her station. 'Why is he being so complement-y,' Amara couldn't help but wonder. Feeling uneasy, "I, uh thanks."
Aaron walked over to her, "Want a picture like usual?"
Shaking her head she almost kicked herself for forgetting. She had a book of every tattoo she's done, not just so people could see her work, but for her to see her progress and admire them. A digital camera in hand she took a few pictures of the freshly tatted skin. Taping cling wrap around the tattoo, "Thank you for reminding me."
"No problem," Aaron replied as he slide his shirt and then jacket on.
He stood close to her, "You know you don't have to lie to me."
"What," her face contorted in confusion.
"It's okay to not be fine," his statement simple, but reassuring. "You of all people should know that I know what its like to loose a parent."
Amara didn't know what to say. If anything she felt like sinking into a dark hole, far away from here and this conversation. Her eyes that had lowered to the floor slowly lifted from the black and white checkered pattern to land on his. All she could do was give a curt nod in understanding not wanting to let him in. 'The more people let in the more pain that could happen,' thought her guarded, not entirely rational, mind.
"Let me take you out to dinner sometime," Aaron sort of blurred out, quickly adding, "Let's get you out of the dark place I see you going."
Butterflies turning to snakes, raged a war inside her gut. Chewing upon her lip, "I can't. Its to soon."
"Don't stop yourself from living, Amara," he step closer in her direction.
"I don't date clients," her next excuse rapidly said, trying anyway to get out of this.
A smirk closed the man's barely worn face. "So what that mean's I'd have to settle for Luke in a dress instead of you, in order for you to have dinner with me?"
'You can't do this,' crept the voice from the depths of her mind.
'Yes you can. Give Aaron a chance,' the other side waged.
'No, Amarantha, you really can't do this,' the voice becoming panicked, 'It doesn't feel right.'
'Why should I listen to you? Every time I do I make the wrong decision.'
'I can't give you a reason other than don't agree to it. Trust me for once in your damned life,' what most people would consider being their consciences, she considered her demon, said.
"One dinner," Amara answered going against what her mind told her to do. The uneasiness from early morphed in to dread immediately upon giving her answer. 'Maybe I shouldn't ha-'
His chest seemed to puff up in pride. "Good, that's great. When's a good time for you?"
'Never..' "How about the fifth? Sundays are my normal days off," Amara rocked on her feet unable to stand still.
"Okay, six sound good to you," he inquired.
With a nod of her head, he paid her for the tattoo leaving her a generous tip, and turned to leave. "Is there a dress code," Amara called to him before he exited.
His heated gaze landed on her full figure, "Just be you. I'm sure you'll look beautiful in whatever you decide to wear."
With that said she was alone in the front left to her own mortified thoughts of going on a date when she was so mentally screw at the moment. "This isn't going to end well," she spoke to herself.
'We agree on one thing for once,' came a sarcastic reply.
'Fucking go away,' Amara screamed internally.
Station cleaned and ready for anyone that happened to walk-in, she headed to the back room. Finding it empty she decided now would be the best time for her to take a quick break. With her coat on, cancer stick, lighter and umbrella in hand she head outside through the front of the shop.
She smoked off to the side of the entrance standing down wind so as the smoke didn't blow right in front of the doors. She messed up with agreeing on to go on a date and she knew that. There was no way she was emotionally ready to build a healthy relationship right now. It all just seemed off.
Butt place in the can that was next to the door she walked to the back to heat up her left overs from last night. "Is that curry I smell," Luke's voice startling her as he entered through the back door.
"Yeah, it is. I brought enough for two if you'd like some," she offered.
"You know I'll never pass up the chance for your cooking," she returned his infectious grin and took out two plates from the wall hanging cabinet.
Each plate had a healthy portion of curry as she handed him his, fork already on the plate. He moaned in pleasure as he at the first bite, releasing small grunts afterwards as he stuff his mouth, all while she ate in a slowed silent manner. Stomach turning with each bite. Don't get her wrong she loved her food, but she had been having to force herself to eat the past few weeks.
Choking down a few bites she was already done trying to eat and offered the rest of her helping to the ravenous looking male across from her. "Are you sure," his brows pinched.
"Yeah, just full," lying a second time to her friend.
He only shrugged before diving right in. Finishing both plates in under ten minutes caused Amara to worry he would choke. She grabbed both plates and utensils before he could and went to wash each a long with the dish she brought the food in.
"So, where'd you go," she asked, backed turned from him.
Luke's warm eyes pierced through her back, "Just had an accident. Needed to change my clothes."
Placing each dish back where she got them after drying them she turned to face him. "These accidents happened quite a lot before I left. They still goin' on," her arms crossed over her chest, as she examined him.
Luke had changed quite a bit over this last year. Having worked for him for three years she was able to pin point every change. Hell they've slept together, she knows of the birthmark in the shape of Florida on is left ass cheek. He use to be a little lanky and closer to her height maybe two or so inches taller. Ever since September last year, he went through an extremely late growth spur, considering he'd be twenty-seven this year, and began to work out at all times of the day. Or at least that's what he has been telling her.
She had kept her mouth shut about his change in appearance because she just figure it was a self image kind of thing. She couldn't explain the height thing but everything else she could. Now his 'accidents' as he likes to claim, happened quite frequently over four months. She couldn't a test to last month because she hadn't been there. Now Embry seemed to be following in Luke's steps in the appearance change, but he was a teen so it made sense.
"Just something I ate," his poker face in place.
'Bullshit,' she thought as she mean mugged him. "Ever since the Cullen's left and you went to help find the Chiefs daughter you've changed and been actin' strange."
Luke stood up defensively, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."
"Now yer lyin' to me," struggling the more upset she became with the thought of him hiding something from her.
"Like you haven't been lying to me all day. Saying you're fine," his voice serious, "you're clearly not fine. I can see the bags under your eyes, have you been sleeping, taking your meds? I think you're seeing shit that's not there."
Now he offended her. There were times she had listened to the voice in her head and believed she could live life without medication. Its why she had been mad at herself for skipping last nights dosage. She needed routine and order and the last few months have been the opposite of that.
She had told him all the knitty, gritty details of what she's suffered from and he just through it in her face. 'This is why we shouldn't let people in.'
Unable to look at the man anymore, she sneered, "I've been taking my pills, thanks. I know I'm not crazy.. at least I think. You know me and when I'm bullshitin' and vice versa. Hell you even read through my shit today," sighing, head bowed, "You've been hidin' somethin' for months and I've ignored it. Its gettin' to a point I cain't bit my tongue no more."
She ended without breath having to breathe heavily to regain it. The emotional toll that she'd been going through finally on the cusp of breaking her. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything she made her move to gather her things. The urge to run away to her home being strong.
Bag packed, umbrella in hand she stopped the briefest of moments. "Never have I felt so," taking in a shaky breath, "I'm going home. I'll see ya later."
He didn't have a chance to stop her for she quickly exited the building and ran to her SUV. Hoping in out of the rain, Amara placed her back in the passenger seat, started the vehicle, and without thought, pulled out and sped home.
7:18
Parking in front of her trailer she released the iron grip she had on the stirring wheel. A tear slide down her cheek which she quickly wiped away, not caring if it ruined her foundation. Taking what she needed out of the car she exited and lock it. Briskly she headed up to her front door, unlocked and entered within less than a minute.
As soon as the locks were engaged her forehead rested against the back of the door, letting the tears fall freely. At least she could break down in her own home, where she didn't have to worry what others thought. She left her entry way sniffling and blurry eyed to go to the bathroom. There she rid her face of any makeup and released her teased her from the mountain of bobby pins that held it together. Crying through the whole process of undoing the tangles she put in her hair.
She left the room with red, puffy eyes. She stripped out of her dress and bra, replacing them with a baggy shirt that reached mid-thigh. Stopping at her fridge she pulled out an unopened bottle of mead, having full intentions of drinking this and possibly the other bottle she had as well.
Open bottle in Amara's grasp she headed to the one place she knew could make her feel better. Illuminating the room with one flick of a switch she set her bottle on the cabinet next to her art desk. The black book she had placed on a shelf earlier was snatched up and with a flip opened the book to reveal the hollowed out inside.
She set the book down in order to grab out her stash jar and papers from inside. With experienced hands, she crushed the herb and rolled herself a decent sized joint. Replacing all the contents, but the joint back inside the book, she took a chug from the bottle next to her before sparking up. 'Anything to take the emotions away,' her mind reasoning.
She inhaled her first toke and held it till her lungs burned. Counting to till ten before releasing her held breath, a big cloud of smoke seeped from her lips. 'Inhale the good shit, exhale the bullshit,' she scoffed. Roaming around the room she found her favorite incense left on a bookshelf. Taking one out of the package she lit the end, letting its small flame burn till she was sure the stick was burning. Placing the incense in its holder on the same cabinet her wine had sat.
She turned the bright desk light on before having a seat in the comfortable rolling chair she bought for her work space. Another swig of the delicious honey wine and hit of green, she grabbed her book where she doodled in. She never would consider herself an artist even though she worked as a tattoo artists. Everyone else art, she felt, was better than she could ever do. She loved to draw and paint which is why she had an extra room. So no instead of artist she classified herself as a doodle-ist.
Opening to the first clean page, half-way through the pad, she just began to unwind and fiddle around on the page with the pen in her left hand. It wasn't till the joint was burnt out and mead drunk that her brain started to connect to what her hand did. Inked on the paper was the man from her dream looking as tortured on the white sheet as he did in her mind. At least on thing was certain in her life, she had an overactive imagination.
"If only men like you existed," Amara sighed biting her lip as her inebriated brain started going down the gutter.
Turning off the lamp she got up with the empty bottle firmly grasped in her right hand. Her bare feet carried her out of the room, switching the light of as she went. Amara tossed the glass bottle in the trash that needed to be taken out. She shuffled across the chilled floor to her pills and took the nights dosage, not caring that she was intoxicated. Her world was a little wobbly as she went to grab a cigarette to smoke before bed.
Her alcohol warmed body stepped out in the icy spring night. Thankful for the covered back porch attached to the trailer for she'd be drenched by the sheets of rain. The cold being her preferred weather considering she was big and wore mainly black. The rain being her favorite because in Texas it rarely rained and rain made her feel at peace. She drew in a deep breath through her nose enjoying the smell of her current environment. The cold and the rain were reasons why she chose this place to live.
Feeling drowsy from the emotion roller coaster of the day and her medication, Amara finished smoking quickly and went back inside. She stumbled around making sure both doors were locked up tight and all lights were off. In her room she laid in bed with thoughts of being in that man's arms once more. Wanting to do anything to take away his pain. She feel asleep with "What took you so long?" echoing around her dome.