Another long day at work. Another minute passed on the clock. Another angry text from Sophia. She's still pissed about the bills that came thorugh in the post earlier. Everyone pays bills, not everyone does that the second they recieve them. Me? I wait a while, why? Because i can't afford to pay them right now and still be able to eat for the next week. As much as i have to explain this to her, she still persists and gives me hell over it. Oh yeah, and her mother is coming over tonight. Oh, fucking Joy.
The buzz of the needle makes me tremble slightly. The dark purple painted door swings open and in strides a broad, tall man in a suit. Hi sir. I say giving him my best happy at work smile which is a full on lie. Happy at work? That is one twisted perception. Hi. My buddy here needs a favour. Every tattoo comes off. He says bluntly pushing a small, scared looking man in front of me. He's a kid. Younger than me easily. Yet he looks like he's been in a war. Bruises, cuts and scrapes cover his face and arms. His eyes bloodshot and weary. Something is not right. I can feel it in my bones. You have an appointment? I continue trying to act professional. The taller man glares at me as though he's trying to mentally set me on fire. No. You can book us in now. He says increasing his glare to become scrutinizing. I begin to feel slightly threatened, scared even. Then, i realise. He's used to this, this is how he gets his own way. Staring people down until they break. Fuck him if he thinks that's going to work. Sorry sir, I almost snarl. We have no appointments left for today, maybe you should make an appointment for next week right now. I say again flashing my false smile. Look bitch, you give me a fucking appointment or we're going to have a problem. He draws his face closer to mine and things are about to become heated until a small animal like sound comes from nowhere, Stop The deer caught in the headlights cries.
Fucking ugly tattoos. Form of art? No way in hell that shit is art. Now we're going to get you stripped of them all. Every last one. He says bending down to my level as im chained to a wall. I've been fucked by strangers non stop. Every single one of them paying my capturers. I've never felt so humiliated in all my life. So helpless. So violated. And i won't see a penny of the money i make. I'll get the marks, the task of performing vulgarities on men and women i grow to hate in the space of seconds and the reputation among these men and women as the best fuck they've ever had. What many don't realise is i've cried my way through every single client in the last twenty four hours. None of them caring. None of them helping me. None of them showing a speck of thought for me. And now, as if i haven't lost enough of myself they're taking away the only things that remind me of my home. Of how things were before Luke. My tattoos.
I'm dragged into the Tattoo parlour. Greeted by the man on the front desk. I glance at him. Wow, he's really attractive. Stop it, Frank. Stop. Luke was attractive too remember? This assholes car was attractive as well. Look at where every good looking thing has brought you. Brought you to nothing but self ruin. -Every single one, Off. My dictators raspy voice says to the man on the desk. The cute guy pauses for a second and looks far away for a second before turning his gaze to me. I look away blushing furiously. Do you have an appoinment? He says sweetly. His voice startles me. New Jersey? I'd say Newark. I knew Jersey like the back of my hand. My dictator squares up and i begin to fear the entire situation. Voices become raised and everyones looking over. I can't have people staring at me. I can't. I'm on edge enough because of my obvious injuries. Stop I squeak not meaning to make my voice heard.
Suddenly, the man flings his hand backwards striking the smaller man directly in the centre of his damaged face. He falls to the fllor with a snapping sound and i dash over to him. Members of staff dive out from every corner desperately trying to restrain the taller man and forcing him out of the door. I am leaning over the broken frame before me as he sobs into his hands that are sheltering his battered, bloodied face.
Don't hurt me He pleads, Please,please don't hurt me. I'll do anything you like. I promise. He continues to cry violently,as i awkwardly pat his back softly terrified i may hurt him. Come home with me I say, not managing to stop myself.
Thankyou for reading! :)