Inked

By Cithara Patra

Lights dim as my body jerks upwards before freezing. No breath escapes my lips, no toes wiggle, no head jerks. All I’m able to do is scrunch my face. My eyes lock on the sharp object inches from my face. The thin shadow dances before me. My fingers scratch the sides of the chair. The hand holding the foreign tool shakes as much as my body does. My hands fly up to my body for protection.

“Wait! I’m not ready!” I jump out before the tattoo artist starts working on the design. Blushing, I quickly add, “My mom might see it.”