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Black Nights, Black Roses

She descended the grand spiral staircase with a fake toothy smile plastered on her face. She kept glancing down to make sure she didn’t miss a step. If she did the results would be horrible. She decided to not think about the negative outcomes. She took the steps slowly. Her coach told her that this builds suspense or something like that. She had tuned her out most of the time.


She finally got to the end of the stairs amid claps and the occasional whistle and grabbed the hand of her date, her accomplice, and her partner in crime. They did everything together. Even things you would never think of doing. “Have I told you that you look lovely tonight? Too bad it’s going to be ruined in a few hours’ time.” Pierre said.

“Oh I laugh at how you’re little mind works at times. After all these years you’ve known me, do you really think I would mess up this beautiful dress? Au contraire my little friend, I would never.” Mia said with a smile. Pierre chuckled and placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Time to entertain the monkeys. Have any bananas?” he said as they walked into the crowd.


But that was back then. It’s all different now. The world changed, people changed but mostly Pierre changed. Mia felt all alone in the world with him in America. Once in a while they would visit each other. Those visits were fast-paced and dangerous. Mia had to dodge bullets when she went to America, to Pierre. Last time she was badly hurt. She had fallen on her arm. Well, at least that was what she told her mother when they were going to get her stiches. The truth; Pierre had pushed her down to keep her from getting shot but the bullet still grazed her.


Pierre ran with a gang. He sold drugs to help his mother. He promised Mia that he never did drugs himself but she knew better. She could see the change in his body. He would try to whisper in her ear like would do in Paris but it was never the same. Mia couldn’t let herself be happy with the constant fear of getting shot. It didn’t matter if she was with Pierre, that’s why she was here in the first place. Nothing would ever be the same now that he did real crimes. Growing up in France all they did was scare little kids and egg the head girl’s car after that party, small things like that. But in America, Pierre took their adventures to a whole new, dangerous level.


The one time Mia did confront him on the drug use he blew up. “I give you my word and it means nothing to you anymore! Why have you changed Mia? Are you too good for the Pierre of America?” Mia shook her head and cried tears of anger as she walked out. “Mia, come back, please! I didn’t mean it.” Mia knew better. Everyone says they don’t mean it, that it was just the heat of the moment but deep inside, they really did mean it.


Mia loved Pierre, in actuality; she was in love with him. She hadn’t told him of course and she was starting to think she would never get a chance to. Pierre was deeply involved in the dangerous lifestyle. No, she wasn’t going to take her mind into that cold dark place. She hadn’t seen or heard from him for a couple months though. She flew to America to spend her days looking for him and her nights calling him. It was almost winter and she was getting frantic. She had to find him!


After a couple days, Pierre visited her. He told her to stop calling him. It wasn’t the life for her. “It’s not the life for you! I don’t want to see you get hurt. Please Pierre, please.” With a disgusted look on his face, he ran off. She broke down right there on the front step and cried for hours.


“I’m sorry Mia. I’m too far in to go back now.” He told her on their last visit. It was quiet. “They’ve chosen me.” Mia vaguely remembers asking him what he was talking about. “They want me to play; to play Russian roulette.” Over her protests he sealed her fate. “I’m going. I can’t back down. Mia, I’ll talk to you later okay.” And he hung up. Mia fell asleep and woke up drenched in cold sweat and tears.


She found out later that Pierre had lost the game. As she stood at the funeral with her arm around his mom, all she felt was hatred towards him and herself. She grabbed a black rose from the stand and as she threw it into the grave she said, “I loved you Pierre. I loved you.” A single tear ran down her cheek onto his casket and as they buried him, they buried her heart as well.



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