Punctured, Bruised, and Barely Tattooed(17)

“Yeah.”

He cocked an eyebrow and said, “Cool.” He rolled back to the counter and started doing something, so she leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, listening to the Five Finger Death Punch song playing above her head. When he rolled back, he asked, “Right or left?”

She opened her eyes. “Hell, I don’t know.”

Stone frowned at her. “You have to live with this decision, Kory. Don’t make it lightly.”

“It’s a tiny tattoo. The side it’s on won’t matter.”

“Then I’ll just do it on this side. I’m here already.”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “Fine. I’m right-handed anyway, so it’ll just highlight that.”

He shook his head. “Okay, so where on your arm?”

“I told you my upper arm.”

“Here?” He touched her upper arm close to the top where it turned into her shoulder. Yeah, it was just his index finger, but it felt nice.

“Yeah.” He nodded. In less than a minute, he was cleaning the area (or so she thought), but then he pressed the little picture up against her arm. After a bit, he peeled it off, leaving the outline of the note on her arm. “Oh. Just like the fake tattoos we used to wear when we were kids.”

“Guess so. Except when I’m done, it won’t wash off.” She tried to stay calm as he put on a pair of blue gloves and picked up the little gun. He must have seen her eyes, because he said, “Kory, nothing to worry about. I’ve done hundreds of these, and there’s nothing to it. Hell, I’ve had lots of them, and it’s no biggie.” She scanned his eyes—she did trust him, but that didn’t remove the fear she felt. “You’ll love having a piece of art on you forever. I know you will.”

“Yeah. I know you’re right.” And she was fine until he turned on the gun. That buzzing sound made her stomach knot up. It too sounded like a dentist’s drill, but it made her think of something else…a memory that wouldn’t quite form in her mind. “I have to close my eyes,” she said as she felt his hand on her arm.

Oh. Okay. So, yeah, it hurt but…it was a weird sensation. It was kind of like a shot—but not. And it burned. And then…

“Oh, fuck. Stop. Stop.” He did. She was looking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Her breathing was shallow. “I don’t know, Stone. Something…weird.”

“Weird how?”

“There’s something I should remember, but I can’t. Something freaky.”

His dark eyes were searching hers. “You want me to stop or keep going?” She looked over at her arm. He looked at it and wiped it with the cloth in his left hand. “Look how much is already done.”

He was right. He’d already drawn one of the straight sides of the note. But her heart was beating so fast. She knew she was afraid of that damned thing, but this was the craziest reaction. “Uh, okay.”

“You sure? You okay?”

“No, but let’s just get it over with.”

“All right. I promise to make it as fast as I can.”

She gripped the arms of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the Starset song that started playing above her head. The music wasn’t loud enough to drown out the drone of the gun. Even if it had been, the vibration and hot sensation couldn’t be ignored. That was nothing, though. What left Kory feeling completely out of her mind was what was going on in her head. Maybe, as her therapist used to tell her, she should let it come and then face it head on. She was strong enough for that, right?

Okay, no more fighting. Stone was right there, holding her arm, doing the work. It was him beside her, not the monster she could see in her mind. So let him come—the bastard couldn’t hurt her anymore.

There was a memory washing over her, but she figured it had been enhanced by the time that had passed and her fears, but she had been young. What age, she couldn’t remember now. Just before puberty, she thought. And there he was—Art, her mom’s live-in boyfriend, approaching her. She could see it in her mind like it was yesterday. In her head, she was sitting on that old ugly green recliner her mom used to have sitting in a corner of the living room. It must have been summer, because Kory was wearing a thin nightgown that ended mid-thigh, and she was trying to wake up. Art was saying something to her, just having exited her mother’s bedroom. He’d made some comment about her legs and, as he got closer, he hunched over, forcing Kory to look at him. She realized her mother wasn’t home—at work maybe? And there was Art, laughing and sneering, and he touched her knee. He kept talking, keeping her off guard, but when he started sliding his hand up her thigh, she let out a kick and jumped over the arm of the chair to run to her bedroom. She could hear his laughter behind her.