“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My eyes were wide as I stared at the sign in front of me.
“Heart & Soul Tattoo” was scrolled in graffiti across the front window of the building. Sara had been full of crazy ideas most of her life, but I was pretty sure this was the most outlandish. I didn’t think I could handle getting a tattoo. I didn’t even like getting shots. This was insane.
“Look, just trust me. You might get addicted, you never know.” Sara had gotten a few tattoos over the years, but they were all hidden. Plus, she always went with Jake; it was something they did together. Why in the world would she think I would agree to this?
“I doubt that.” I bit my bottom lip, trying to decide how I could possibly get out of this.
“It’s a good kind of pain. I know it sounds crazy, but it is.” She pulled her keys from the ignition and tossed them into her purse.
“That sounds completely delusional. But whatever, let’s go.” I rolled my eyes at her and just went for it. I could convince myself this was on my bucket list and you only live once. It wasn’t, of course, but I figured what the hell.
“Fuck yeah.” She clapped her hands like a child before opening her door. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she rounded the car.
“I’ve never even thought about doing this. I don’t even know what to get.”
“Do you trust me?” She stopped at the door with her fingers wrapped around the handle and stared into my eyes.
Part of me wanted to make a smartass comment or say something snarky, but in all honesty, I absolutely trusted her. “Shit. Let’s just do it before I change my mind.” I let out a heavy sigh, trying to force the butterflies flailing around in my stomach to evacuate.
We walked through the door as the music invaded my senses, alternative rock filling the air. I stared at the black and red tile floor and then the mural of skulls and beautiful pinup girls lining the wall. They were painted in bright, bold colors. It was amazing, and I knew at that moment that if the tattoo artist was responsible for the work on the wall, I was in good hands. I was in awe of everything in sight, trying to take it in while I noticed Sara talking to the girl behind the counter.
“Ready?” Sara’s voice turned my attention away from the displays around me.
“Let’s go.” I gave her a pathetic smile that probably resembled pain more than happiness. I couldn’t hide my nerves, not from Sara anyway.
We both took a seat in booths next to each other as a man covered in ink from his neck to his fingertips approached me. He was shirtless and had huge rings through both nipples that I tried my hardest not to stare at.
“Who’s first?” he asked as he looked back and forth between us.
“She is,” Sara chimed in with excitement as the artist pulled a sheet of paper from a printer before turning back in our direction.
“Okay then.” He gave me a nod before making himself comfortable in the wheeled chair next to me.
“It’s a good thing you’re wearing a sundress,” Sara whispered as she jumped from her seat and knelt down close to me. “You said you trust me,” she stated before lifting the bottom of my dress to the top of my thigh, just below my panties. My body stiffened when I realized where I would get my first ink.
“I’ve had plenty of practice covering scars, not to worry.” He gave my leg a quick glance before placing the paper over my scar. The transparent sheet had a picture of some type of black bird. The tears that filled my eyes made it hard to see clearly.
“We’ll match.” Sara pressed her lips against my temple before backing away and taking her seat again.
“It’s a good spot for a phoenix.” His smile was gentle, not what I’d expect from someone with such a hard appearance.
“Darkness surrounds me. Flames engulf me. Born from the ashes, like the phoenix I will rise,” he spoke softly as he pulled the thin sheet of paper from my skin, revealing an outline of the image I was about to get.
“Wow, that’s beautiful.” His words gripped my chest tightly.
“I like poetry.” He grinned as he concentrated on the liquid colors in front of him. “You ready?” he asked and patted my knee gently as the buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the air.
I let out a deep sigh with a nod.
The pain was excruciating as he pressed the lit cigarette against me, burning into my flesh. I could faintly hear screams in the background, and although I was convinced they were my own cries, it was distant, and the pain was so intense I couldn’t think clearly.
I opened my eyes and stared into the green hue that blazed into me, evil pouring from his pupils, his teeth clenched together.
“Maybe now you won’t dress like a whore.” He lifted the cigarette back to his lips and used the lighter to reignite the stick. I looked down through my tears and saw the black ring on the top of my thigh, smoke billowing in the air, the smell of burnt flesh stinging my nose.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
But all I could do was cry until I noticed Sara come into the living room. I started to shake my head, begging her without speaking to run in the other direction. But when she realized what had happened, she began to scream.
“I fucking hate you, leave her alone.” Her young voice filled the room, my head still shaking uncontrollably.
“Sara, no,” I whispered through sobs.
“You want some, too?” he growled and grabbed her bony arm to pull her body onto the sofa next to me. A moment of clarity hit her in an instant, and she attempted to jump up, but his oversized hand pushed her back down.
The next moment, she received the same punishment I had for wearing my shorts too short. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, except try to help me.
Her screams matched mine as we both begged him to stop. Pleading with him.
He threw the cigarette across the room. It landed on the brick of the fireplace before he stood and left the room without another word.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I cried, pulling Sara close to me. My eyes focused on her thigh that wore the same fresh burn, and my stomach churned while my own physical pain took a back seat to the agony I felt for my little sister.
Sobs filled the air as I helped her to her feet, and we both limped to our bedroom, hoping to distance ourselves from the evil that hovered in the air.