Harper looked at Trent.She could feel the sincerity radiating from him, and realized he was right.She took her phone from her back pocket.
“Please don’t make me regret trusting you,” she said, handing it to him.
“Never.”
Photograph taken and outlines applied to her back, Harper clung to the hoodie she was currently wearing back-to-front over her bikini top.It was Trent’s suggestion, and a comfort to not feel so exposed, even if the hood dangling down her front felt strange.
Looking in the mirror, she twisted slightly and tried to make sense of the purple ink from the transfer that covered most of her back.The sticky goo Trent had put there before applying the transfer, which he’d said would help the lines stay in place while he tattooed her, had dried.
“Here,” he said, turning her to face him.“Look.”By putting the second mirror he’d retrieved in front of her, Harper could see her full back.Holy crap, the tattoo was huge.
The veins of the purple outline looked strange, like a river network crisscrossing her back, but the sword and the text stood out, looking just as beautiful as she’d hoped they would.
Tears welled in her eyes.She was really going to do this.After four years, the evidence of Nathan’s hold on her would be physically eliminated, the impact emotionally diminished.
She hadn’t been joking when she said she hadn’t wanted a tattoo before this.So many of the tattoos she’d seen at the inner city school where she’d taught had been gang related.So many children had been getting tattooed by unlicensed and unethical tattoo artists willing to permanently mark underage kids.
This was different.Just looking at the lines about to be etched on her skin made her light-headed.Her heart pounded in response to the adrenaline buzz.Was this what everyone felt in that moment before their skin was changed irrevocably?A strange acceptance of the permanence of things, especially those that could not be undone.Her skin tingled with anticipation, and she shivered slightly despite the warmth of the room.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”Trent said softly.“I wouldn’t think less of you if you didn’t.”
Harper took one last deep breath.“I need my life back.I’ve lived here for a really long time and haven’t had one swim in the ocean.I didn’t ask for this to happen to me, but it’s time I stopped letting it rule what I do.I know it’s time for me to move on.I’m scared, Trent, but I really want this.”
***
Trent checked his equipment.The round shape of the five needles in the liner would create a great tattoo outline.He balanced the weight of it in his hand—it was going to get a lot of use today.He straightened the machine bag that covered pretty much everything except the needle.His equipment was sanitary, always.He checked his shader, flat needles in another set of tattooing irons that would color inside the outline.He might need it today, depending on how they went.Giving his irons one last check, Trent waited for Harper to take a step, feeling the energy change in the room when she finally decided to get on the bed.
He’d known from the moment he’d seen her that first night that doing this was going to be something special, something he wanted to be part of.
Trent removed his black baseball hat, smoothed his hair down, and then put the cap back on backward.Some god-awful country song, likely about heartbreak, moonshine, or true love, was playing on her iPod.Her choice, not his.That shit made his ears bleed.
He pulled on a pair of black, nitrile gloves, picked up the tattoo machine, and prepared to start the first line, taking a moment to smooth on some Vaseline to stop the bleeding that would occur and help his needle penetrate Harper’s skin without friction.
As he’d planned the tattoo out the previous evening, he’d thrown out the way he’d normally approach a tattoo of this scale.He wanted the first session to have real impact.He also wanted to avoid some of the more painful parts if possible, as this was going to be a long journey and he didn’t want to make the anticipation of future appointments worse.
“Here we go, Harper.Take a deep breath and remember to hold still.If it gets really bad, just let me know and I’ll stop as quickly as I can, given where I’m at.The first twenty minutes are going to be the worst.Ready?”
“Ready.”
She flinched at the drone of the equipment.He reached out and rubbed the small of her back.“Don’t worry, darlin’.It’s just the needles movin’.”
He waited until her body relaxed again.“Take nice slow breaths for me, darlin’.No hyperventilating on my bed, okay?Starting in three, two, one…”
The buzz of his favorite machine vibrated in his hand.Nothing else felt like this.He stretched the skin taut and lowered the needles to Harper’s back, relishing that first moment of contact, a gentle pressure that every artist had to master to minimize the pain.Surplus ink puddled around the tip, blurring the lines he had to follow.The pigment flowed as the needles went in and out of Harper’s virgin skin.He lifted the needles and wiped the surface to clear away the unwanted ink.His hand was confident and steady as he drew the first couple of lines that would become the top portion of the sword handle.
Dipping the machine back into the ink, Trent paused for a minute.“How are you doing?You remembering to breathe?”
“I just keep telling myself that I’ve survived worse.”
He put his irons back down on the table and slid his stool around to the top of the bed.Lowering his head down to her eye level, he waited for her to look at him.
“You.Are.Amazing.I’ve tattooed thousands of people and not one of them was braver than you are being now.For what it’s worth, I am incredibly proud of you.”
The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him.And wasn’t that a damn shame.
***
He was staring into her eyes.“Thank you,” she said, and lowered her head back onto her forearms.She didn’t deserve his praise.Someone who ran and was still running wasn’t brave.Merriam-Webster would probably tag her as a walking example of cowardice, unable to face her attacker or let anyone touch her.
