Page 69 of The Tattoo Artist

“I know,” he replies simply. “Come on.”

I hop into the car, and he reverses out before heading in the direction of the tattoo shop. As we drive, I take the chance to steal glances at him. His jaw is tense, and it’s evident that he’s trying to maintain his composure.

“I argued with Cathy,” I finally admit, feeling a need to share what’s bothering me.

“What? Seriously?” Ares looks surprised, and perhaps concerned.

I nod my head. “Yeah. Before you came to my room, we had this whole argument, and she said a few things that hurt me... and pushed me really hard.”

“The blood on your fingers,” he says, and I remember the pain in my hands from the earlier incident. He stops in front of the tattoo shop.

I nod, looking down at my hands. “Yeah.” We exit the car, and he takes my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. “Does your boss not get annoyed that I’m here half the time?” He chuckles, looking down at me as he pushes the door open.

“I don’t think he has a problem with it,” he answers, I look down at our hands. They fit perfectly. Almost as if they’re made for one another. And my cold hands were levelled with his warmth.

“How do you know, though?” I ask, as he leads me down the hall.

“Because I own the place,” he reveals with a smile, his eyes meeting mine.

“Seriously?” I’m taken aback, not expecting that as we enter the room.

He nods, his grin widening. “Seriously. It’s mine.”

I’m impressed and a little surprised by his ownership of the tattoo shop. Ares always had an air of mystery around him, and now I’m discovering more layers to the man I’ve grown to care for.

“Wow,” I respond, genuinely amazed. “That’s pretty cool.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s just a business, but I like it.”

He slides of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch as I stand awkwardly in the empty room.

“So, what did you want me here for?”

Ares points to the artwork hung on the wall, depicting a woman with butterflies surrounding her. The same one from the day we met-or should I say ‘I met’ him.

“It’s you,” he reveals.

My eyes widen in shock, and I find myself speechless for a moment. “What...?” I whisper, trying to process what he just said.

“You understood it so well because you’re the one who drew it.” Ares explains, a hint of pride in his voice. I take a step forward, closer to the painting, and examine it with newfound wonder. “Not me.”

As I scrutinise the details, it starts to become clearer. The woman in the painting resembles me, not just physically but in the subtle nuances of her expression. The butterflies, a recurring motif in my art, swirl around her like a dance of freedom.

“I painted this?” I say, my voice filled with disbelief.

Ares nods, his gaze soft and encouraging. “Yes, you did. It’s one of your best creations. You’ve always had a deep connection with butterflies, and your art reflects that.”

I’m in awe of the painting and how it captures a part of myself that I had forgotten. It’s as if the artwork holds a piece of my soul, and I feel a sense of intimacy with it that I can’t explain.

“How did I not notice?” I murmur, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me.

I slowly graze my finger over the signature on the bottom, my signature. Tears well up in my eyes, and a heavy weight settles in my chest. This is harder than I thought. Memories and emotions flood back, overwhelming me, and I feel lost in the storm of my own mind.

I turn around, facing Ares, who stands beside me with concern etched on his face. His eyes meet mine, and he sees the pain that I can’t put into words. I try to hold it all together, but the floodgates burst open, and I can’t contain my emotions any longer.

Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around his waist, seeking comfort in his embrace. My sobs escape, and I don’t care how I sound or look. All that matters is the overwhelming sense of loss and confusion consuming me.

Ares holds me close, his arms a safe haven amid the turmoil. He strokes my hair gently, offering silent reassurance that he’s here, that I’m not alone. But the pain is too raw, and I can’t find the words to express what’s tearing me apart inside.

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