*A good song to listen to while reading this is 'Nothing Breaks Like a Heart' by Mark Ronson.*
This is stupid.
That’s what I kept telling myself as I stood on the side of the cliff in the rain. Being a teenager wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“I can live with stupid,” I whispered into the rain. My newly dyed blue hair stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck. It was shorter now, a wolf cut. I was wearing an expensive leather jacket I’d bought with my mom's credit card. The card I’d stolen earlier this morning.
I felt foolish. Rebellious. Stupid. A fire pumped through my veins and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
I laughed out loud. A rebellious eighteen-year-old girl with dyed hair and a leather jacket. Could it be any more cliche?
Turning from the cliff, I fled into the forest. My dad’s car, the one I stole, waited three miles from here. I just needed to get there, and I could leave this hick town. I could be free.
My faded, muddy Chucks squished in the wet soil as I dashed around the trees.
I’m so close. Just another mile.
A blinding light flashed in my eyes and I stumbled, falling to my hands and knees in the cold mud.
Oh, please don’t be my father.
“Oh, man, are you okay?” A worried face stared down at me. The boy knelt down beside me and held out a hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet, standing up with me.
“I am so sorry. I had no idea anyone else was out here. I would have never-”
“Hey, dude, it’s fine. I just… Have you seen this big, burly guy around? He looks ex-military?” My eyes darted around the surrounding forest, peering into the darkness.
He shook his head. “I’m on my way out. Skipping town. I’ve been trying to avoid the military, if you know what I mean.” He cocked an eyebrow, looking me up and down. “And you? Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here on your own so late.”
I swiped my hand across my cheek, smearing my face with mud. “Same as you. Outta here.”
“What’d you do? You don’t look like the kind of person who has the guts to kill someone. Shoplifting?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Stole a car. A wallet. Firearms. And I could kill you without a second thought,” I retorted hotly, hand going to the waistband of my black jeans.
He held his hands up. “Sorry, kid. No need to get all up in arms.”
“I’m no kid,” I hissed.
“Okay, okay. We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over.” He wiped his hands off on his blue jeans and held his right hand out. “Hello. I’m Malachi, wanted criminal extraordinaire. And you?”
“Rue, certified runaway. I’ve got places to go and people to avoid, so if you could just…” I tried to brush past him, but he blocked my path.
“Where’re you bound for?” he queried sweetly. The rain trickled down his face. It made him look like he was crying, and he looked hotter for it. His wet shirt stuck to his chest, and I could see well-toned muscles rippling beneath the fabric.
Something told me I shouldn’t tangle with this boy, yet that was all I wanted to do.
“I want to go west. Vegas. Get broke. Get drunk. Spend all my dad’s money. I don’t know. I don’t care,” I responded.
“Can I come? I’m a lot of fun when I’m drunk,” he grinned.
“I don’t even know you!”
“Who cares?! We’re rebels, outcasts from society! The odds of us ending up in juvie or prison together are high, even if we don’t go to Vegas together.” He flung an arm around my shoulders. “Whaddya say, Rue?”
I sighed. “I say I’m gonna regret this.”
Malachi’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Sick. Let’s get outta here.” He grabbed my hand and began sprinting through the woods.
“My car’s parked about a mile from here, on-” I gasped.
“Big black dodge pickup? Yeah, I saw it,” he cut me off. “You drivin’ or am I?”
“I’ll drive,” I whispered, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
“And Rue?” He smiled devilishly. “Let’s take our time on our way west, shall we?”
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Eight days and three clubs later, we found ourselves driving down the Las Vegas strip. It was close to ten o’clock and Malachi was dead set on finding a bar before we spent another night in the bed of my dad’s pickup truck. He whipped the wheel to the left and cut across the next lane right in front of a semi truck. I smiled at his recklessness. He was dangerous and I loved it.
We ditched the car down the road from the Cosmopolitan Hotel. When we were parked, Malachi climbed out and stretched, black shirt tight against his skin.
“The Chandelier is supposed to be the best bar in Vegas.” He slammed his car door shut and came around to open mine. He helped me down from the high seat, hands lingering on my waist. As I walked past him, I heard him inhale somewhere by my ear.
He turned and slipped his hand into mine. It was warm and felt perfect in my grasp. But as quick as he grabbed mine, his hand was gone. Cold plastic bit into my palm. I resisted the urge to open my hand and stuffed the card into my pocket.
“Fake I.D.” he breathed. I looked at him in surprise. He smirked. “Oh please. Like I couldn’t tell you weren’t twenty one.”
I frowned and pushed the door open to the hotel. We followed the signs until we reached the Chandelier. At the entrance to the bar, a guard asked for our I.D. I pulled mine out, as did Malachi, and we handed them to the man. He looked them over, handed them back, and waved us in.
“Enjoy yourselves,” he said blandly.
I gasped as I took in the sight. Crystals sparkled all around the massive room. People milled about drinking an incredible array of alcoholic beverages.
Malachi wrapped an arm around my waist and sidled up to the bar. “Two Whiskey Business, please,” he asked the bartender, who nodded silently and began grabbing bottles of liquor.
Malachi pulled me close to his side and started to finger my hair. The excess dye had finally washed out, leaving my hair a sky blue.
“We made it,” he whispered. “We’re free.” The bartender slid over our drinks, and Malachi handed me mine. I took a sip.
Fire burned my throat and I nearly coughed. My stomach burned and my head reeled. The fire I’d felt in my veins on the night I met Malachi was nothing compared to this. This hurt me and I loved it.
Malachi was sipping slowly on his, smirking over his glass.
“Never drunk before?” he whispered softly.
“You know I’m under age,” I whispered back. We both finished our drinks and Malachi ordered us each another.
After I finished my fifth drink, Malachi pulled me into the round glass elevator that led to the second and third floors. I was giddy and high. Malachi was higher. Halfway between the second and third floors, he pushed the emergency stop button.
Suspended above seven million crystals, Malachi pushed me against the glass wall. My body was pressed against the cool glass, and his body was pressed against mine. His hands were against the wall by my head. He was so, so close.
So close.
Without warning, he crushed his lips against mine. I grabbed his collar and pulled him into me. He drove his fingers through my hair, angling my face towards his. He sighed against my lips, murmuring things I didn’t understand. He kissed along my jawline, his breath hot against my skin. His fingers dug into my side, practically burning my skin.
He was toxic.
He was dangerous.
He was unstable.
He was mine.
“Rue,” he breathed. “I told you I'm fun when I’m drunk.”
I laughed and kissed him again. “You’re dangerous.”
“That’s a bad thing, huh?”
“Only if you want it to be,” I replied. He kissed up and down my neck, pushing his body tighter against mine.
Suddenly, the elevator jolted, landing us in a pile on the gleaming floor.
“Oh, no,” Malachi hissed, cursing under his breath. The elevator stopped at the second floor, and as I looked down, I could see a group of people in police uniforms standing outside the elevator doors on the first floor.
Grabbing my hand, Malachi launched out the open doors onto the second floor. We stumbled towards the emergency exit, and, throwing the door open, practically fell down the stairs. Five minutes later, we collapsed into the bed of my truck, laughing our drunk heads off.
“Oh, we’re in for it, huh?” he gasped, pulling me close to his side.
“Man, I’m gonna have a hangover a mile long in the morning,” I laughed, not caring about a thing.
“Same time, different place, tomorrow night?” Malachi asked as I drifted off to sleep, head pounding.
“See you then,” I answered.
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The months passed just like that. Running wild and gambling away all of my dad’s dirty money, drinking ourselves silly late into the night, waking up early to find a new hotel and do it all again.
But towards the end of November, Malachi began to go off on his own some nights. I didn’t mind when I was sober. The rare times I was, I knew that Malachi wasn’t good for me and I should be glad he was gone. But then he’d come back and we go get drunk and he’d kiss me and I’d fall for him all over again.
Christmas Eve found us back at the Chandelier. We were staying at the Bellagio, but we had decided to go back to the Chandelier, for old times sake. My dad’s bank account had finally dropped out of the trillions into the billions, so we celebrated by buying the most expensive drinks on the menu.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?!” Malachi yelled. All three floors of the bar quieted to a dull roar. He placed his drink on the bar and looked me square in the eye. He was on his fourth drink, so I had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth. And I was on my third, so I didn’t totally trust mine, either.
He shakily got down on one knee and I almost screamed.
“Rue, I remember the night we met. The instant I saw you, I didn’t want to let you go. And for heaven’s sake, Rue, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You are the one I've been waiting for my whole life.” His breath hitched as he pulled out a small velvet box and I tried not to cry. “Will you marry me?” he asked as he opened the box.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Everything in me screamed ‘no’, but I screamed, “YES!”
Everyone in the bar cheered as Malachi slipped the slender silver ring onto my finger and dipped me low. My hair brushed the floor and Malachi kissed me deep and slow. His hair wrapped around my fingers and his lips traveled across my jawline.
The sounds of hundreds of intoxicated men and women nearly drowned out Malachi’s whisper, but I heard it.
“I can’t wait until I’m yours.”
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We stumbled out of the Chandelier around three o’clock in the morning. We were trying to remember where we parked the truck, when a police cruiser pulled up beside us.
“Evening, guys,” the cop said. “I just have a few questions to ask. Can I see your I.D.s?”
Somehow, we both managed to pull our I.D.s out of our pockets and hand them to the man. His face turned grim when he looked at Malachi’s. He climbed out of his cruiser and clapped handcuffs on Malachi’s wrists.
“Malachi Steven Frederick, you are under arrest for shoplifting, assault, breaking and entering, murder, tresspassing, kidnapping, driving under the influence, and arson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Wait, what?!” I screamed. “But he’s not- he didn’t- MALACHI! What happened?!”
He gave me a baleful look that absolutely shattered my heart.
“I did it for you, Rue.” And with that, the officer turned to put Malachi in the backseat of his black-and-white.
“NO!” I grabbed Malachi’s waist and pressed my lips against his, trying desperately to forget the policeman and just savor this last moment with my only love.
Malachi put his cuffed hands behind my head and pushed my face closer to his. Tears chased each other down my cheeks.
The kiss only lasted a few seconds before the officer shoved me away from Malachi.
“No,” I whimpered as the policeman muscled the boy into the car.
“I love you Rue!” he yelled out the open door. “Stay strong. I’ll find you!”
And in a matter of seconds, he was gone
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This is stupid.
I stood on the roof of the Cosmopolitan, staring down at the Christmas-themed night lights of the city. The rush of traffic, the yelling of tourists, the beauty of the fountains. For a few months, I had been free to enjoy all of that.
I stepped to the very edge of the roof and leaned over, ever so slightly.
It would be so easy to fall, to end all of this pain.
But Malachi told me to wait. To be strong.
He would find me.
I’d stay strong.
But until then, I’d hold tight to the memories of the bad boy and Vegas.
Hey! MT2.0 here. I wasn't sure if this would count, because it didn't end in an actual 'breakup', but the rules only said there needed to be a tragic end to the love story, so that's what I tried to accomplish. I hope you enjoyed 'The Bad Boy and Vegas'!
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