Screw Your Roses, Asshole

Yeah, well. I had been fucked over and I knew by who and right there I doubled over and I puked. Right outside the door to their suite, onto that expensive looking hotel carpet and Jesus, did I ever puke. Multi-colored rainbow puke with chunks. Puking until there was nothing more to puke and then I just leaned against the wall feeling like shit before summoning up the energy to look for the elevators.

Christ, I almost puked in the elevator when the floor dropped out from under me and I guess they were glad to see the back of one more War Machine groupie coz that cab was right there and some hotel dude was helping me in before I could puke on their foyer carpet which I really felt like fucking doing.

I didn't throw up again until I got back to our dump and climbed out of the cab and saw my car there and then I did. I fucking puked on the sidewalk, only there wasn't that much this time. Climbing up the stairs, my rage just grew and grew. Mikhail? That bastard. He'd used me to get a warm-up gig? He'd done it deliberately, offered me up on a plate to War Machine just so's those assholes could get that fucking warm-up gig? Their manager was gonna call?

Well, fuck that. Fuck them all.

The absolute fucking bastard. What a fucking asshole. All of them. I'd gotten them into that party and introduced them to War Machine and the assholes had fucked me over. Used me to get a fucking gig that I'd fucking lined them up for. Those bastards. Those fucktards. Those ... those ... fuck them. Fuck them all.

They hadn't even locked the fucking door of our apartment when they got back after leaving me at that fucking hotel. The apartment I fucking paid for with the money from my shitty waitressing job coz their band made fuck all and none of them wanted to work. My guitar and my amp and my mike and my speakers were all sitting there in the apartment hallway with the door half fucking open and the others were passed out in the fucking living room and when I looked into our fucking bedroom, fucking Mikhail was passed out on the mattress and that fucking bitch Laney was there under MY fucking duvet with him.

Fucking asshole. Fucking bitch. Fuck them all.

How could he? How could he have done that? But he had. I remembered now and I just went cold. I remembered everything. Every word. I'd been totally fucked up on those bacardi's, he fucking knew that. He'd given the fucking drinks to me and he knew how easily I got hammered. I remembered that fucking grin he'd given me as I'd knocked them back. They'd all known. Every one of them and for a moment, gripped in that icy rage, I wanted to fucking kill them all. Him. That fucking bitch Laney. Fucking all of them. But want to and will are two different things and I wasn't that kind of girl.

It kind of dawned on me like a bombshell going off. Well, maybe another bombshell coz my head fucking hurt like there were needles behind my eyeballs. My Mom and Dad, my friends for that matter, they'd been right about Mikhail all along. They'd all been right and me, I'd been a complete fucking idiot.

He was a fucking asshole and a user and he'd used me. It was my fucking car we'd driven here in. It was the fucking band taking my car everywhere coz their van had crapped out and they used my car like it was theirs and I was spending three hours every day on the fucking bus getting to and from work. It was me working a shit job to pay the fucking rent and buy the fucking food for everyone so those assholes could pretend they were a fucking band and I was a way better singer than that fat bitch Laney would ever be.

And now they'd fucked me over for a warm-up gig? Used every which way to Sunday, that was me. Last time I'd walked out on Mikhail and I'd made up with him like a silly bitch and now this. How fucking stupid was I? Well, after stumbling into the bathroom and finishing another conversation with the great white fucking telephone, I decided I wasn't that fucking stupid.

There wasn't any fucking hot water. Son of a bitch. I almost screamed when the cold water hit me but I was having a fucking shower if it was the last thing I did coz I just felt so dirty. Dirty and used. It was a quick one though coz the water was fucking ice cold but by the time I was done and I'd gulped down a couple of Advils and cleaned my teeth, I felt a lot fucking better. My head didn't hurt and I felt a lot cleaner and my mouth didn't taste like puke and I knew I was fucking leaving. Right fucking now. Fuck them all. Clothes were quick. Jeans and a t-shirt and a sweatshirt and my old leather jacket and my Doc Martens.

Four trips got MY guitar and amp and speakers down the stairs and into the back of the car. After I took their shit out of my car and dropped it on the road. Like, really. I just pulled their shit out and dropped it. Crash! Bang! That kind of drop. Fuck them all. Back up the stairs. Mikhail and Laney didn't wake up when I peeled the duvet off them and took it downstairs and used it to wrap my guitar in. Mikhail just rolled over and farted in his sleep. Laney didn't move. She was snoring like the fat little pig she was.

I looked at the old toaster oven and the electric jug in the kitchen that I'd got from the St Vincent de Paul Thrift Store and figured fuck it, they were mine but they weren't worth the extra five minutes it'd take me to throw them in the car. I threw them down the trash chute instead, along with the pots and pans and the cheap kitchen crap I'd bought there too. They'd drunk all the beer I'd bought for Mikhail so I didn't toss that but I did take all the toilet paper and throw it down the chute. Happy crapping, dudes. One last trip for my clothes and I was throwing them from the pile on the floor into my single suitcase when Laney kind of stirred.

"Oh, hi Alex." She gave me a sleepily triumphant smile from where she lay curled up on the mattress with Mikhail's arm around her and his dick was in her hand. I kind of looked at that dick and, well, it meant dick all to me now. Half a dozen used condoms leaked cum onto the wooden floor around the mattress and I hadn't notice them before. Guess Mikhail hadn't missed me that much last night. Guess he knew Laney too, coz he'd used those fucking condoms and he never had with me.

"Hi Laney." I smiled back, more of a rictus than a smile but it was that or scratch her eyes out and really, I just felt totally cold about her.

"Alex?" Mikhail blinked. Guess he was still kinda fucked up on something. His eyes were red anyhow. He looked worse than I felt and that was saying something.

"Hope you don't mind," Laney purred. "You seemed a little busy last night so I kinda moved in with Mikhail." Her hand stroked his cock as she eyed me. What did she think I was going to do? Start a fight over the asshole or something?

"You're welcome to him," I said. Although looking at him, lying on the mattress, naked, I almost changed my mind. Almost. He was such a fucking hunk. But remembering what had happened last night stopped me. Happened once, it would happen again.

Nope, I was so fucking gone I'd already left.

Mikhail looked at me blurrily. "What're you doing, Alex?"

"Fucking packing, you fucking asshole." I kept on packing. "And screw you as well," I added, throwing the last of my clothes into my suitcase and closing it.

"Huh?" Yep, Mikhail was always quick on the uptake in the morning. Specially after a good party.

"I'm fucking leaving, Mikhail. What the fuck does it look like I'm fucking well doing?"

He was looking at me like he didn't believe this was happening. Well fuck you, asshole. It's happening.

I picked up my cell, called home. It was frigging early back home with the time difference, like, maybe six in the morning but Mom wouldn't mind. Call me anytime, Alex, she'd said, that desperate look on her face when I'd told her I was going with Mikhail and Jesus, hadn't I been a completely horrible little bitch to my Mom and Dad. She answered about three rings in.

"Mom? Hi Mom, it's Alex ... yes ... yes I love you too, Mom .... Uhhh, I know Mom, I know I haven't and I'm sorry, Mom .... Mom ...Mom, wait up ...you know, I've changed my mind Mom, I'm coming home .... Yeah .... Yeah, I have, I'm gonna .... I wanted to ask you and Dad ..... umm, you're not mad with me or anything coz I was stupid .... Uhhh, yeah, I'm gonna start for home today, see you in a couple of days .... Yeah, I'll call on the way, okay ..... yeah, I will .... Yeah, we broke up, you were right Mom, he's an asshole 'n I'm sorry I didn't listen to you and Dad .... Yeah, yeah, I know, I finally figured that out, only took me, like, eight months .... Yeah, it did, it took me a while .... Mom .... Mom, I'm sorry, I know you were .... I figure I'll get a job for a few months and then start College in September, miss a year, that's all 'n I can maybe do some part time classes before then, get a head start ..... Yeah, I'm sorry I was such a stupid little bitch, Mom ..... yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing you too ... love you Mom, see you soon .... Tell Dad I love him ... bye."

"You're really leaving, Alex? No shit? Last night, I can explain ...."

"No fucking shit, you don't need to explain a thing, you fucking creep. I'm fucking leaving. Now shut fucking up and keep outa my fucking way. I'm fucking gone, you fucking asshole. You can keep the frigging mattress." All I had left was this suitcase and it wasn't much.

"Jesus, Alex, hey, wait..." He sat up, then puked. On Laney. She screamed and rolled away. I couldn't help laughing coz it was funny. It fucking was.

Mikhail looked up at me, spitting puke on the mattress and why the fuck had I ever been interested in him. Totally gross. "But hey, Alex, we got that gig for sure next week, we gotta get there and it's miles away....and those dudes last night said we were on after you ...."

I cut him off. "Fuck off, Mikhail. You sort your own shit out. You want to be a fucking asshole, you deal with the consequences and fuck you."

I walked out and it felt so fucking good. It felt better as I tossed that suitcase in the back. It felt really really good when the car started up. Mikhail must've managed to find his clothes. Maybe not his clothes. Boxers? He was running onto the street and standing there in his boxers watching me as I drove away.

Maybe he thought I'd come back like I had last time.

Well, not this fucking time, baby. I was on the road home and I wasn't crying my eyes out like I did last time I'd walked out on him. I wasn't hurt. I wasn't heartbroken. I wasn't being a pathetic little bitch. I was free and I was smiling when I hit the playlist. My playlist. Not Mikhail's. Oh yeah! Taylor. One more reason to walk out on the asshole. And that song. It was perfect.

I was smiling. Smiling up until I noticed the bunch of roses in the well of the front passenger seat. My new found self-confidence vanished in a second. Mikhail? He'd got me roses? For Valentine's Day? He had? Maybe last night was all a mistake. Maybe he did really love me. Maybe maybe maybe and there was that sick feeling that I'd screwed up again. Heart pounding, I pulled over. Picked up the card that sat on top of the roses. Opened it.

Read.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Laney, I've always loved you, I'll love you forever, Mikhail."

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck. I'd known Mikhail three fucking years, we'd dated for two and a half fucking years, lived together for eight months and the asshole had never ever ever said he'd loved me. He'd never bought me roses. Not fucking once. Mikhail was still standing there when I reversed back towards him, like he was waiting for me or something. He was smiling when I pulled back up next to him. He was smiling when the window rolled down. He was smiling back at me when I smiled at him.

"Oh, I forgot, that guy from War Machine that you said could fuck me, after he fucked me he said their manager'd call your manager about the warm-up gig." I smiled sweetly. "And Happy Valentine's Day, Mikhail."

He kind of smiled back. He stopped smiling when I threw his shredded up roses at his face along with that card. Ripped in fucking half. I missed, but really, I didn't give a shit coz it felt so fucking good.

"Screw your fucking roses, asshole." Not quite a scream, but close. Close. I reversed hard, enjoying the crunching sound as I powered over those guitars and amps and shit lying in the street where I'd dumped them, smiling as I put her into drive and drove off, smiling coz saying that and doing that felt so fucking good.

Hearing his scream following me. "It's your fucking phone number they've got, bitch."

Well, it was, coz I was the only one who still had a paid up working cellphone and my phone was with me and I was laughing as I waved my phone out the window, watching him running down the road after me until I turned the corner and tucked my phone into my jeans. Guess they wouldn't be doing that warm-up gig for War Machine after all. Not after I took their manager's call. No fucking chance at all.

That fucking sucked. For them.

Embrace the suck, guys.

Tough fucking shit.

I was smiling.

Smiling.

I turned the music up. Taylor Swift and I singing along together as I headed for the freeway. Long drive ahead, might as well start now. I'd call Fred, tell him I was going home and sorry I was leaving but I had to go. He'd understand and maybe I'd come back and see him sometime coz he really was a nice guy. I had a thousand bucks in my handbag, my pay was direct deposit and those tips from last night, well, I didn't give a fuck now but the money'd be good to have and I trusted Fred to give me my share and I wasn't even going to think about what I'd done with those guys last night or that I'd really enjoyed it.

Whatever.

Two, maybe three days and I'd be home with Mom and Dad and who cared if I was driving halfway across the country in the middle of winter. That's what the fucking heat was for and I turned it to the fucking max but I'd need more than that going through the Rockies. I could buy a warm jacket and some gloves and a woolly hat once I was outa this shithole of a city. That and a large coffee and some more advil coz I knew I was gonna fucking need that. Plenty of time to think about my life while I drove home.

Maybe cut down on the fucking swearing too. I wondered if Megan and Sandy and Sadie needed a vocalist. If they didn't, and they probably didn't coz shit, that was eight fucking months ago and I hadn't even pinged them or anything and I'd barely done any singing since I got here coz I'd been working my ass off, guess I'd have to find a new band. And a job. That wouldn't be hard. I knew I could do pretty much anything now.

I knew Mom and Dad'd be happy to see me back home again.

I'd be honest with them and tell them I'd been an idiot.

I'd apologize to them for all the shit I'd kicked up.

I was never ever going to pull shit like that.

Never again, not on my Mom and Dad

They loved me, they really did.

I'd tell them I loved them.

As soon as I got home.

Time to hit reset.

Start over.

It felt so fucking good to be done with Mikhail and I hadn't realized how I'd felt until I'd walked out of there. Free, free, free and I opened the window, breathed in the cold air. Smiled and I couldn't stop smiling.

"Screw your roses, asshole." Screamed one last time, emptying myself of him, of any thought of him and with that scream, we were done.

Best fucking Valentine's Day of my life, that's what today was.

We are never ever ever getting back together

You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me

But we are never ever ever ever getting back together

And a SHORT note from Chloe:Once again, and as always, thank you so much for reading this and I do hope you enjoyed it. This one just came to me one morning last year when I was driving to work listening to, you guessed it, Taylor Swift. So after I got home I sat down and started hacking it out. Hope you enjoyed. And if you enjoyed this, do read my other 2018 Valentine's Day Competition Story, "Fields of Gold" (once it's up that is) It's waaaaaaay different from this one and there's a preview below.

And okay, one itsy bitsy little request. Unlike books you pay for, these stories are free for you to read. As the author, the only reward I get for these is knowing whether or not you enjoyed them, how good (or bad) you thought they were and any feedback you care to share or comments you make. So I do have one and only one request -- see those rating stars below? Take five seconds extra to pick one for this story and hit it. That's all I ask.... Mind you, if you leave a comment as well, I'll be even happier.

And thanks once again for reading ... you're a great audience for a wannabe writer and I love writing for you all ... What can I say. You're the best and you all reading my stories is my biggest motivation for writing them! And do enjoy the preview below... Chloe

Afghanistan. Love. Loss. War.

A Valentine Day's Tale of First Love and of Last Love.

Of War and of Remembrance.

See the children run as the sun goes down among the fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley

You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold, when we walked in fields of gold.

"Fields of Gold", sung by Eva Cassidy

He drove south-east through the darkness and the cold and the light snow of the early morning, as he'd driven south-east on the morning of every Valentine's Day for the last ten years, red roses resting on the passenger seat beside him. Red roses resting beside him as they'd sat beside him on this same day on every single one of those years. Behind him, in the back seat, his three children slept, limp as discarded ragdolls, held in place by the pillows and rugs around them.

As he drove, he remembered, as he always remembered.

As he remembered on every Valentine's Day.

As he would always remember.

"Give it back .... give it back to me... it's mine ... give it back." Stella heard her little sister's voice before she saw her. Upset. Scared. Angry. Desperate.

She turned, left the friend who she'd been talking to and ran towards her sister's voice. Ran towards that bully from High School who'd grabbed Summer's new doll from her, the one Mom and Dad had bought for her birthday even though they couldn't really afford it and she knew that because she'd heard them talking. She knew the bully by sight, not by name. He'd been pushing the little kids around, pushing the not so little kids around for weeks now and no-one had done a thing. Not even the teachers who'd seen him.

"You give it back to her right now." Her voice didn't sound like hers at all. Not scared. Angry. Angry and outraged.

"Fuck off, dhillo," the bully sneered, and he put his hand on her chest and he pushed her, hard, laughing.