Warning: Explicit talks of self harm, suicide, and other depressing topics.
Rose was sitting on the couch, as she always had since she moved in here. She considered smoking to take the edge off. Life was funny like that. A few months ago, all she wanted was to be alone. Her sister was the only exception. Nowadays all she wanted was the presence of another. Being alone meant addressing the thoughts that lingered. The memories that haunted her. She was ready for any fucker to interupt their life. That gun on her lap, ready for anything. She kept her eye off the ball for one moment. A second too long. Now her sister's head was so destroyed she had to be cremated. No casket for her. Worthless. She should've finished the job that night.
That stormy Halloween night. Coming home, soaked and crying. Sobbing over the loss. Asking questions. Begging for Jesus to forgive her. Nobody responded. She felt so cold. Alone. Tears and the rain water mixed together like a flowing river on her face. She felt… Tired. Not sleepy, no, but something the world broke for her. She was done with it all. Holding the piece in her hand. All she needed was to put it under her chin and pull. The grief would die with her. The pain that Jackie felt would ease after a while, she'd bet. She did it, too. She placed it under her chin. The gun trembled in her palms, regret almost immediate. Rose gasped as she dropped the iron, letting it sit there for a bit as she shook in fear. That same feeling she had when the intruder burst in. She tried her best to ignore the feeling. Jackie was being Ultraviolence and Dante was helping Roy with some NBLP stuff, leaving her with nothing but the room and memories. Her arm hurt. She'd been wearing long sleeves. There was too much to handle that horrible night. She needed to feel something other than inner chaos. Something to control, to ease off the demons clouding her head. She picked up a blade. Breaking down, she sliced her wrists, ripping into them to feel control. Her arm was red with blood, but she calmed down… For now.
Ever since Halloween Rose felt ashamed of the scars. Like it was weighing her arm down, feeling heavy on the skin. Something you can't forget you've done. It's a near permanent reminder of the trauma you've endured. Some will take pity. Some would feel disgust or fear. All of it Rose did not need. She covered it. She hadn't done it since, but whenever she was alone, that voice returned. You failed her. Kill yourself. Maybe find a rope instead of a bullet. The thoughts rolled in like a dark cloud, invading her mind. Rose knows it's not true. But what if it was?
Desperate, Rose got up, grabbed her coat, and left. Hopefully, WNY was open late. Arriving at the place, surprisingly it was. Marloe was alone, walking back and forth, on the phone with Roy of all people. Rose eavesdropped, not making her presence known yet. Marloe had him on speaker as she organized some files. "Roy, you're fucking crazy."
"Blah blah," Roy said. "You ain't answer my question."
Marloe rolled her eyes. "Because I don't want my connections clipped. Besides, you ain't answered mine. Where did you get this information?"
"You on your burner, right?"
"Roy," She said with a sigh. "Yes, I'm on the burner."
"We took it from City Hall."
"City Hall?!" Marloe stopped filing upon hearing that. "The bombing an hour ago, that was you?"
Roy remained quiet.
"Real liberating, Roy. Domestic terrorism. Gonna bomb a school next?"
"Nobody was there! Goddamn, you on my side or theirs? They've done far worse to us, you know that."
Marloe picked the phone up, fully paying attention. "So your solution is to be like them?"
Roy sighed over the phone. "I hate arguing with you."
"Because you know I'm right. I just don't want to see you dead, Roy."
"And you won't. So please, Loe. Give me the contact."
After a moment, Marloe relents. "Summer Armstrong. She did that piece on Ultraviolence a week or so ago. Me and her go way back. I'll text you her number, that's all I'm giving you."
"Thank you, Loe. And I'll be careful. Promise."
As she hung up, Rose made herself known. "Hey, Marloe."
"Oh hey Rose," Marloe said while turning. "You heard that conversation?"
Rose bit her thumb. "No. Only a bit."
Marloe chuckled. "I haven't met you long, but I know when you're lying. You heard it all."
"Yeah… But I won't tell anyone."
"I know, Rose. Listen, I'm not a fan of the cops. But I just don't think that we should just kill randomly until something goes right. Like that guy, Ultraviolence. It's a bad way to run anything."
"Sure," Rose responded, sitting in a chair. "But… I don't know. What can we do?"
Marloe didn't say anything, but gestured for Rose to elaborate.
"I'm gonna be honest, Marloe. I hate my life at the moment. There's no justice. No peace. No hope for the bad guys to lose. My whole life, men just… Get away with it. They say the most disgusting shit at a kid and just go home to their wives to forget it ever happened. They will rape, kill, take, and get a slap on the wrist. I'm fucking tired. I'm selfish. I know. But I want Ultraviolence to do more. I want him to burn it all down. Even with me in it."
With a soft sigh, Marloe approached Rose as she began to tear up. She tried not to cry, but the touch of a soft, warm woman will do anything to her. She broke down, letting Marloe pull her in for a hug. She didn't know what to say. What could she say? Rose was on the ledge. "Rose. No matter what, you're not alone. You have me, ok? I'm here if nobody else is. Don't ever think you are, ok?"
Guilt grew in Rose as she heard that. "You don't want that."
"Why not?"
"I help Ultraviolence. You'd hate me."
"Baby…" Marloe said, rubbing Rose's hair. "I don't hate you. Or Ultraviolence. I just disagree with him. But enough. You just need to calm down."
You never say no to Marloe. She continued to let it out. Mumbling incoherent sentences. "I miss my sister." "I just want my sister back." "Why didn't they take me?"
Rose mourned. For the first time.