Page 4 of The Spirit Of My Savage
I stared at the shop lights above me while he started setting up. The buzzing sound of the gun made my skin crawl from the memory. King had sat right next to me, getting my name tatted on his wrist while I got his after only being together for six months. He had his hand on my thigh the whole time, whispering nasty shit in my ear while the needle burned. He told me, “You mine now. Forever.” And now here I was touching it up like I wasn’t in a whole relationship.
Justine came to the back with her drink, chewing on the straw like she had something else to say. I already knew it was coming. “You ever think about just lettin’ it fade?” she asked.
I turned my head toward her. “Let what fade?”
“The tattoo. The memory. The pain.”
I blinked. “How the fuck I’m supposed to forget the only man who ever really loved me?”
She leaned on the wall, lips tight. “I mean… it ain’t like Rome treats you bad.”
I laughed once. “Shit ain’t all peaches and cream either.” Justine quieted down after that. The needle hit a little too deep, and I flinched.
“You okay?” the artist asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said, even though it wasn’t.
My stomach had been twisted since I woke up. I’d checked the mirror again that morning, but it was clean. The candle was gone like it never existed. Rome claimed he didn’t see anything but I knew what I saw. And now, lying under this buzzing light, I felt goosebumps cover my entire body.
The artist’s hand paused mid-line. He stared down at the machine like it had glitched. “Yo… that’s weird.”
“What?” I asked.
“The needle just locked up. Ain’t never done that before.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “Uhhh…”
I swallowed. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
“From who?” she asked, looking around the shop but I didn’t answer. I already knew.
Twenty minutes later, it was all done, and we left the tattoo shop. I held my wrist tight under the wrap to feel the pressure and to stay grounded.
It was cloudy outside, cool but not cold. The sky had that gray-orange tint that always came right before Halloween. Little kids in puffy coats were walkin’ with plastic pumpkins. Dollar-store cobwebs clung to gates, and somebody on the block had a fake crime scene in their front yard with yellow tape and fake blood. Back in the car, Justine turned the radio down.
“Aight, spill it. You been weird for days.”
“I’m good.”
“You a damn lie. You barely hittin’ the group chat, you look tired, and your energy is all the way off. I know it’s that week, but come on, sis, you gotta shake it off.” I didn’t speak. She reached over and softly grabbed my hand. “You been dreamin’ about him again?”
I stared out the window. “Not just dreamin’.”
“What you mean?”
“I think…” My voice cracked a little. “I think he’s still around.” Justine went dead silent. I turned to her. “I’m serious, Just. I heard him. I saw the bathroom mirror fogged up with his handwritin’. I found his Essentials hoodie in the house. Ismellhim.”
She let out a long exhale. “Okay… maybe you just need to take a break. Go to a spa. Talk to somebody.”
“I’m talkin’ to you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I looked down at my wrist. “I ain’t crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
I looked over at her. “But you think I’m makin’ it up, huh?”
