Her song for Javier was Nine Inch Nails’ “Wish.” A darker, faster, more frantic song but one of her favorites. But when it came to the cryptic lyrics, to wishing there was something real in a “world full of you,” she wasn’t sure who the song was about. Her or Javier?
He decided to get it on his wrist, just the word “Wish.” He said he had always wished for a woman like her and every time he looked at his hand he’d be reminded that wishes did come true.
Still, despite the commitment and support, the girl was having second thoughts. It was more than just the pain; tattoos were forever. Her tattoo spoke of a future that may or may not happen. Did she want it to come to pass, to look down at her arm one day, knowing Javier was looking for her? Did she want to feel that empty, seeking sound?
Javier was making sure she’d always remember the first time she had sex and the first time she got a tattoo. He was imprinted on her body in so many ways. And in the back of her head, buried deep behind logic, hidden behind first loves, sex, lies and power, the girl knew that she was being branded, for him to own, forever.
It took a bit more pleading and coaxing outside the parlor on that day when the clouds pressed down on Ocean Springs like a humid hand. But finally, and as usual, the girl gave in. She had a hard time saying no to Javier. It was one of the reasons why, a year later, her mark became her lover and the master of her heart. She never meant to fall for Javier. She couldn’t even understand how she did, how she succumbed to a man who did very bad things, who was part of an organization that had once done very bad things to her.
But when you’re twenty, the heart wants what it wants and if you’re dedicated enough, it gets what it gets. Youth and naivety did so much for this girl who was now calling herself Eden White.
Javier kissed her hand, staring intently at her with the sharp, yellow-green eyes that won her over to begin with. “I hope I’m always a part of you, Eden,” he said with conviction. “You’ll forever be a part of me. A world without you in it is a song without the music. You need both to make it whole.”
She felt her cheeks flush. Javier could be terribly romantic, and the strange part was he was always sincere. He lived his life bravely and with passion, so much so that when he was dispatched by Travis—the man who started it all, the man she had yet to see—he made savagery an art. It made it easy for the girl to forget the type of man she was dealing with, because when he was dealing with her, she was a sacred jewel—his queen.
It wasn’t until later, when it was almost too late, that she rediscovered the snake. He was starting to slip through his cage. And it was frightening.
The girl took in a deep, steadying breath, and leaning on Javier for support, entered the parlor. An hour later they came out with their marks forever on each other, sinking into their skin. Her arm was heavily bandaged and soaked through; his song had made her bleed more than normal.
It was her first warning.
Now
To say that the tattoo hurt was an understatement; it hurt so much that I needed something to bite down on. The hotel towel looked like it had been chewed up by a disobedient dog, but it was better than screaming, which I felt like doing on more than one occasion.
Most of the time I just looked straight out the window, imagining I was floating high above the gaudy people at the pool below. Sometimes though, I would sneak a look at Camden. He almost dissolved into the tattoo, into my body, that’s how involved he looked. He was like a sculptor, whittling away my ugliness, leaving trails of beauty behind. What started off as a bare branch growing from the roots of my foot soon unfolded into a leg full of cherry blossoms. Camden made the criss-crossing lines into a tangle of green growth; he coaxed my dead skin into living flowers.
When he was finally done, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead and snapping off his gloves, I felt like crying. Not just that the pain was over but that something amazing had been birthed from my tragedy. For the first time in my life, I was able to stare at my leg with something other than disgust, anger, and shame. I felt awe and I felt pride. And, whether I wanted to accept it or not, I felt gratitude. Camden…
I couldn’t even complete the thought. I stared at him, unable to say anything except “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ellie,” he said. “And thank you. Now you can see what I’ve always seen.”
My throat felt thick and I swallowed hard. Noting this, he got up and came back with a glass of water from the bathroom for me. I drank it down but still couldn’t come up with anything to say.
“Are you done admiring my work?” he asked with a wink. The truth was, I didn’t think I’d ever be. The pink cherry blossoms were so full, vivid, and life-like. It really looked like a tree had grown around my leg. “I’m going to have to wrap you up now.”