Page 77 of Follow Me Down

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“You’re sure about this?” Titus takes my hand, giving my fingers a firm squeeze.

When he mentioned he had an appointment scheduled with his tattoo guy to have some ink done, I asked if I could come so I could watch. Given that I drew the piece he was getting, I wanted to see it come to life in person. I never in a million years dreamt I’d be the one sitting in the chair.

“I am.” I give him a nervous smile, my gaze going to Zeke, the bald, thick muscled tattoo artist who has even more ink than Titus, which I didn’t know was possible.

He pulls the transfer away from my foot, revealing four tiny birds flying in a line.

When I decided to have something done, this design caught my eye instantly. Birds flying free. A representation of my new life. Of my newfound freedom. Of the future that now seems limitless.

Zeke readies the gun and adjusts his chair, turning back toward my foot.

“I’m going to warn you now, this is probably going to hurt like a bitch.” He throws me a look of caution.

“I can do it,” I reassure him. Hell, after watching how easy it was for Titus, I’m not all that worried about the pain.

At least not until the needle touches my skin for the first time. I instantly tense, the pain radiating from my foot all the way up my leg.

“You okay?” Zeke pauses after making the tiniest mark on my foot.

“Yeah, I’m good. Keep going.” I turn my gaze to Titus who gives me a smile and nods.

“It gets easier,” he promises.

“When?” I cringe when the needle hits my skin again.

“When the area goes numb.”

“Which is when?”

“Usually right toward the end.” He chuckles.

“Well that’s reassuring.” I squeeze my eyes shut and lock down on Titus’ hand, probably cutting off the circulation to his fingers.

Zeke continues on, the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the radio playing lightly in the background the only noise in the room.

I try to think of something,anythingbut how bad this hurts, but my brain keeps coming back to the pain. Maybe I should have listened to Titus when he warned against starting on my foot. Then again, it was the only place I really want one.

It’s not like I sat around thinking about it for a long time. Hell, up until about twenty minutes ago I had never considered that I would even get a tattoo, let alone have to pick where to permanently ink my skin.

My father’s face pops into my mind.

I can only imagine what he’d say right now. How disappointed he would be. And for the first time in a very long time, I realize that I really don’t care.

This is my body. My life. And I will do with it as I wish. He’s no longer in control. The thought somehow gives me some reprieve from the pain. Either that or I’m able to channel it in a way that makes it seem less overwhelming.

“I don’t know how you’ve done this so many times,” I say to Titus after several minutes have passed.

“You gotta really want it.”

“Yeah, I see that now.” I force a smile.

“You’re almost done,” he tells me, his gaze going to my foot and then back up to my face.

“I am?” I prop my head up and look down, surprised to see he’s already working on the last bird.

“It’s a pretty simple design,” Zeke interjects.

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