Inked

Prologue

Charlie

It was supposed to be a good day.

It was a good day.

I got to the tattoo shop, my tattoo shop, early. Bought some coffee and doughnuts from the cute bakery next door. The barista threw in a couple extra of my favorite cookie, white chocolate and macadamia nuts. Sun was shining, and everyone came into work on time. No issues with clients, and my paperwork was done before my first break. 

And my second cup of coffee tasted better than the first.

The Only thing I knew that was going to suck was having to stay later. One of my clients wanted a huge back piece done and we had already gotten about halfway through it. But i really didn't mind, the money was good for business, and the guy tipped well and was nice enough. 

So once everyone was done with their tattoos, I sent them home. With only myself and my client, Cliff, left we continued where we left off. The back piece consisted of a large skull slightly tilted into a row of roses. It was made to look as if the skull was lying on the ground, the earth starting to reclaim the remains. A rose blooming from an eye socket and vine growing out of the mouth.

He wanted roses because it was his daughter's favorite flower, and wanted the skull because it was, and I quote, “badass.” 

And it was something I was happy to tattoo, I always loved it when people came in wanting to represent someone they love. Plus it made it easier to talk to, they can talk about themselves and I don't have to answer anything about myself. It's a win-win really.

Around 11 o’clock, we had to call it quits. The pain got a lil bit too much and honestly I had probably been awake for too many hours too. 

“Alright!” I stretched my arms, listening to the clicking of stiff joints, “I think at this point, you probably know the drill about the after care for your tattoo, so if you come back with an infection I am kicking you out of my shop.”

He laughed as I still handed him all the information he would need to take care of the tattoo. He might know by now but I’m not risking that lawsuit.

“Kid I appreciate you staying open for me to get this guy finished,” he said with a wink handing me my tip, “do you want me to stick around for any bad guys?”

Cliff was in his late 30 and had a major dad vibe, one reason why I always liked him as one of my clients. Out of the many men I have tattooed he was definitely one of the most respectful.

“No, that's alright.” I said, “I’m a big girl”

I’ll regret that in 15 minutes.

“Ok kid, take care and I’ll see you in a month!” He smiled as he walked out the front door.

I turned around to look at the mess. Since it's my shop I run everything my way, so before everyone went home hours ago their stations looked spotless. So just my own was left and a quick sweep of the floor, cash out and I’m as good as gold.

Half way through my cleaning I can hear the door opening and the bell chime go off. I am sweeping the floor by the back of the shop. I can suddenly hear my heartbeat in my ears, cold sweat going down my back. My breath is staggering.

I know that door was locked. I can hear footsteps. They're wearing boots, I know that sound of heaviness.

My hand slips into my pocket, phones in my left pocket, switchblade in my right. I grab the switchblade. Front door has been unlocked and the emergency exit door is on the other side of the shop from me. The floor plan is almost a complete rectangle, the washrooms and office sit in the back next to each other. My line of sight is blocked by tattoo stations, plants and an awkwardly placed structural beam. 

My mind is racing. They should know where I am because the front of the shop is all glass panels. Of course they were watching, they’ll know where I am and where I will run too. My only chance is to fight.

“Charlie.”

Fuck. FUCK.

I take one deep breath, and slowly move towards the figure. I put the switchblade back into my pocket.

“I’m gonna be taking you back home now.”