Chapter Fifty-Five: Can't Forget You

896 42 25
                                        

Chapter Fifty-Five: Can't Forget You


Ellie


Another week had passed. My stomach was tied in knots as I waited for the sun to rise. I didn't want to have to face another day, I didn't want to have to face Mark. I was having cold sweats and my stomach was churning with nausea - I felt as if I was going to throw up any minute unless I got some fresh air or something. It had been like this since the day he caught me.


I was sat on the floor in my room, unsure as to what I was doing with my life. Did I have any purpose? My eyes swam across my room until they landed on a tripod, lay on the floor with a camera beside it. My YouTube channel had crumbled - I hadn't posted in two weeks and I didn't plan to. I stood up and walked over to the devices almost angrily, where I then shoved them under my bed with a huff.


Today, I was going to do something productive. Whether that be working out, practicing some new music on my keyboard, or getting a tattoo- yeah, that's exactly what I'm going to be doing today.


I changed quickly, knowing that, by the sudden brightness of the day, that Mark would be getting up soon. I shoved my earphones in, letting the music play freely as I made my way to the front door. I hesitated, my hand reaching out for the handle, before I turned with a sigh and grabbed a pen and notepad.


I've gone out. I don't know when I'll be back - don't wait up.


I dropped the pen beside the notepad, quickly turning and heading out of the door. I knew exactly where the tattoo parlor was - I remember seeing it when we walked around the mall with Joe and Bryony.


A twinge of pain twists in my gut at the memory, knowing that there would no longer be any more memories of Bryony, before I shook my head free of the thought and stepped into the brightly coloured, smoke-smelling parlour full of inked-up people, both working and waiting to get tattooed.


My eyes wandered over the art that decorated the dark walls, and I was instantly drawn to a picture of a thigh tattoo - flowers and vines crawled up from the knee to the hip bone. I chewed on my lip in thought, before I was torn away from that when somebody tapped my shoulder.


"You lookin' for your first tattoo?" A man asks, smiling at me slyly. I notice that he has a name tag on his chest, signalling that he works here. Dean is his name.


"Yeah, actually, I am," I nod my head, my eyes still darting back and forth over all of the pictures that covered the walls. "I was thinking this.." I began, gesturing to the leg tattoos.


The man dropped his eyes to my legs and cocked his head to the side. Usually, I would feel uncomfortable. However, I knew that there was nothing flirtatious about what he was doing. He rubbed his knuckles over his jaw and nodded his head.


"It'd look real good on you," he said. "Though it'd be best to look around a little longer, don't ya think?"


"Yeah, probably," I said quietly.


since eighth grade. → markiplierWhere stories live. Discover now