Page 43 of The Tattoo Artist

Confused and taken aback, I turned to him, whispering, “why are you giving this to me?”

He met my gaze, his eyes holding a mix of emotions. “Because it’s yours,” he said simply.

“But what do you mean it’s mine?” I pressed, trying to unravel the mystery behind the necklace. He shook his head, pulling down his mask as he walked towards the balcony doors. “Answer me!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice, frustration and confusion overwhelming me.

He stopped in his tracks, seeming surprised by my tone.

“I’ve been trying to figure you out for the last two years, but... nothing. You’re like a blank page.”

“Stop trying,” he said.

I wanted to understand him, to break through the walls he had built around himself. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. There was a depth to him that I couldn’t quite grasp, a past he kept hidden.

Suddenly I hear my phone vibrate, and head towards it.

Mum (7:02pm): Mr Johnsons dead, we’re coming home.

I slowly lift my head, my eyes wide open.

It can’t be.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ALEXANDRA JONES

THE ANSWER IS CLEAR.

Diávolos killed him.

End of story.

My pen continues to tap against the empty sketchbook before dropping it, my hands circle around my neck and unlock the clip that held the necklace. I slowly raise it against the light. The necklace spins in the air, casting shimmering reflections across the room.

Why did he give this to me?

And what did he mean by it belongs to me?

I drop the necklace onto the sketchbook, fiddling around with it until my eyes slowly catch sight onto engraved writing.

Angelos.

With trembling hands, I reach for the necklace once more, tracing the letters of the name as if searching for answers. Everything was becoming more confusing by the minute; I look up and Mrs Toffee is already standing in front of me. “Nothing on the paper, we’ve been in this class for two hours Alexandra.” She speaks, leaning onto the table.

I put the necklace back into my hand and shrug my shoulders, lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed that Mrs. Toffee was standing in front of me, disappointment etched across her face. She pointed out the blank page, a stark reminder of my distraction. How could I create something when my mind was occupied on looking for answers?

“Sorry, I’ve been distracted,” I mutter, the pressure of the upcoming presentations and the scholarship hung heavily over me, but my mind couldn’t shake off the curiosity surrounding Ares and the secrets he guarded. This isn’t right, I should be putting my education first. This scholarship-this transfer has been something I’ve wanted since I came back to school. It’s what is missing from my life.

But there’s something nagging onto my heart, telling me that something else is missing.

So, what the hell is it!

“Distracted enough to forget that presentations are this week. I thought you of all people wanted this scholarship.”

“I do,” I speak up.

“Clearly not, Miss Jones.” She responds, Mrs. Toffee walks back to her desk, I gather my things the moment the bell rings and slide off the chair. I walk over to Mrs Toffee.

“I want this scholarship. I do. I will send you my presentation Friday morning, I promise.” She gives me a curt nod.

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