The Bleeding Heart

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I’m a monster—a dangerous one. Not the kind that will break into your house to steal prized possessions or shoot you dead on the street, but dangerous nonetheless. I’m the one hiding in the shadows, waiting for the moment. Until then I try to be normal, but alas my body fails me. Gives me away. In the mirror I can see it. The evil lurking inside slithers it’s blackness beneath the surface, seducing me with it’s siren call. And I want to. Oh so need to relent to it’s begging and become my own sweet revenge.

***

        I sit and watch the blood run down the pale skin of his arm. It isn’t my job to wipe it away, not yet. As Jonathan’s apprentice, I’m obligated to sit and watch as he uses his rag to remove the ink-stained liquid. Ever the silent observer, I feel as if I’m a witness to a crime. All this blood lights the frustration within as I sit and watch, unable to participate. I can’t be the one to make the client bleed. I want it to be my hands clenched on his shaved, freckle spotted arm. I want to be the one holding the vibrating needle etching into his skin, spilling pain and blood; creating beauty from pain. Soon it will be my turn, but not until I turn eighteen. Damn laws.

        My need is all I can focus on as Jonathan tattoos the forearm of the very large, biker laying on the table in front of me. I visualize myself sitting in Jonathan’s place, engraving lines into the skin of this stranger. Focusing my eyes, I straddle the border between reality and my dream world, creating a slow motion effect. I zone in on the capillaries, which are now open and allowing the blood to pool into the break of the skin. Right before it rushes to the surface and flows liquid heaven over the edges of the small slice the tool makes, I expertly push my needles deeper causing the man to wince with pain and me to tingle with pleasure. The euphoria of this pushes me over the edge. I can barely control myself as my arm lifts from my side, reaching toward him. Realizing what I’m about to do, I pull my hand back and place each palm down under me.

        “You’re sweating.” Jonathan peers at me from over the top of his glasses, scolding me like an insolent child.

        His words jolt me back to reality. “Um, sorry.” Moving quickly out of my chair, I leave the room. The last thing I want is for Jonathan to see my flaws so close to the surface. I can’t allow my eagerness to show. If he only knew how much pleasure I’m feeling right now, he might take it all away from me. 

        Closing the door to the bathroom, I lean against it willing my muscles to relax. Here, where no one can see me, I move deliberately to the sink and turn the faucet on. I’m barely able to turn the knobs with my shaking hands. Unable to stop the trembling, I splash cold water on my face washing away the beads of sweat from my forehead, erasing the redness that has surely invaded my pale cheeks. Focusing on breathing slowly, my hands grip the sink as support. Be calm.

        Damn it. This has never happened before, but the countdown to my birthday has me unsettled and wanting more. The evil I keep bottled up in my mind has never been this close to release. I am way too close to losing control in front of Jonathan, which cannot happen. Ever. I don’t know if he’d understand what’s growing inside of me, in a place of intense desire. I think every day I’m getting worse, that the disease will gnaw holes in my insides, getting closer and closer to the surface of my skin making me feel like everyone who looks at me can see it, like my own dark tattoo. 

        Get it together Brooklyn. You can do this. I take a deep breath to fill my lungs; pushing the desperation back down to its resting place, and walk back out into the shop. That’s when I feel Greg, the employee I’d most like to fire, watching me intently. It’s like he knows something is amiss, but he’s not quite sure what. Now that I’ve pushed my sickness back where it belongs, I know he won’t be able to see the real me. Even so, I hurry back to Jonathan’s side and thankfully, it seems as though this session is finished. The customer is sitting up on the table, while Jonathan is smearing A & D Ointment on the raw skin. Even though it’s only an outline, he still takes precaution using gloves and sterile dressing to protect himself and the man’s new tattoo.