Page 1 of Kalix
CHAPTER 1
KALIX
“Shut up,”I grit out quietly. Despite my attempt, it seems the two only get louder, and my annoyance only grows.
The artist twists to dip the tip of the machine into more ink and grab paper towels as I try again to quiet the room, and yet again, nothing. One cackles and snorts at something the other one says, and my walls dissolve. I jump out of the tattoo chair, whirling on them.
“Would you shut the fuck up?” I scream. The room goes quiet as my chest heaves, my mind finally catching up to my body as I look around. All eyes are on me, the two causing all the commotion now with scared looks on their faces. I sit back down, the artist staring at me with worry over my outburst.
“Continue,” I demand.
The tattoo gun whirls again, drawing my attentionback to the area. He’s shading a rose, the skin angry and red. I roll my neck, cracking it now that my outburst is done. The heat filling my body slowly recedes into whatever hole it crawls out of when this kind of shit happens. I pull out another cigarette and slowly inhale as I allow myself to disassociate.
I was taken from my parents when I was nine years old. My old man would beat the shit out of my mom any chance he got; one day, he turned on me. When I showed up to school with a busted lip and a black eye, a teacher called CPS and I was taken that day, never to see them again. Not that I mind—I was placed with a nice family and they adopted me a year later.
Apparently, I have a hard time managing my emotions, especially my anger. As soon as I turned seventeen the doctors said as much, and although I was given medication, I never took it. The few times I did, it just made me sleepy and I hated the feeling of not being in control.
My adoptive parents sent me to a psychiatrist when they noticed my outbursts growing more violent. I would snap at the drop of a hat; I know that’s not right, but I just can’t control it. He said it was due to the past trauma in my life and watching my sperm donor rage about the smallest thing when it came to me and my mom.
Given I towered over everyone in my new family, I think they were scared of me. I never wanted that. Breathing techniques never helped me either, andtrying to do so normally led to me punching something. It was usually a wall or bag; anything was better than turning intohim.I do my best to calm the rage storming through me now with new ink, over-priced cancer in a box, and going way over the legal limit on my bike.
My addiction to drawings on my skin is the reason why there’s not much space left.Anywhere.
The location depends on how I’m feeling. If I just want to feel the buzz I’ll pick somewhere easier. On my worst day, I got a tattoo of a halo of thorns at the base of my cock. I have to say, that shit hurt, but honestly, I have no regrets.
The rest of my dick is off limits—for now, anyways. It’ll have to take something significant for me to finish getting it done.
The sting of the tattoo brings me back to reality as I watch my artist wipe a paper towel over the new piece I get to carry with me. I fist my hand, watching the petals ripple as the veins pop. He throws ointment on the abused area before I fish a wad of cash from my pocket and leave the apartment. Jogging down a flight of stairs, the cool night nips at my bare skin. It’s unusually cold for the beginning of August, the fall semester starting up in just a few short days. As I get to my bike, I put my helmet on and throw my leg over the seat. I start it up, letting the adrenaline course through my veins. It doesn’t take long for me to back up and take off towards my own place. There’s no one else on the road with me as I push the bike’s limits, urging it fasterunder the cover of night. The air hits my skin, the wind so cold that it burns; I use it as fuel to ride harder and faster. I can feel myself breathe easier as I get closer to home, but I still feel like something is missing.
What that is, I don’t know, but I’m determined to find out.
CHAPTER 2
LAINEY
I adjustmy beanie over my ears as I walk down the sidewalk toward the coffee shop on the corner. Tomorrow is the first day of fall semester at Blackstone and I still need to get my book for chemistry class. First, though, I need a large hazelnut latte with an extra shot of espresso.
The Dark Roast is a cozy little coffee shop with wooden table tops and comfy green chairs you sink into. The dark maroon walls and black-and-white floor makes me feel like I’m at home.
“The usual?” Mandy asks as I approach the counter.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Yes, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Not even five minutes later, my coffee is ready, and I’m on my way to the campus store.
This is my third semester at Blackstone University of Riley. I am working towards a degree in psychology.I’ve always been fascinated with how the human mind works, so I decided that’s what I wanted to do with my life: become a psychologist.
I go to open the door when I hear, “Lainey! Wait up!” I look over my shoulder to find Lexie jogging toward me.
So much for a quick trip.
I hold the door open for her and we walk inside, out of the cool weather.
“Hey, Lexie.”
She smiles brightly, her red-blonde hair sparkling in the sun. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you all summer break.”
