I Did It For You

4.

Soho, NY

The tattoo needle stung as it dragged into my flesh and I welcomed the pain. The experience was healing in a way. The more pain the needle caused, the more I could feel myself letting go of some of my own. I felt awake and alive, the buzzing echoing inside of my skull, causing any and all memories to remain at bay, at least for now.

When it was finished I looked down and smiled in approval. The entire back of my right hand now bore a large black and white clock, shattered along its bottom. It displayed no hands, just infinite time, reminding me to stay grounded in the present, just as the clock in my cell had done, symbolizing that my past was frozen in time and that my future was still unknown.

The artist, who was kind enough to squeeze me in this early, bandaged my hand and I paid him with some of the money I had saved up from Uber. Money very well spent in my opinion because I felt calmer than I had felt in a very long time.

I glanced down at the real clock on my phone and hurried out of the tattoo shop to hail a taxi.

The sun was beginning to shine through the morning mist, peaking out among the tops of the tall, stoned buildings. Coffee vendors began setting up their trolleys, preparing for the morning rush and the city was already bursting with life. Trash lined the sidewalks from the night prior and the smell of gasoline wafted through the air. Smoke billowed up from the sewers in alleyways, and yellow taxis infested the streets like a swarm of honeybees, their engines buzzing to endless destinations, their impatient horns creating a harsh melody of chaos.

Rochester would always be my home but I have never been happier to leave it. Francesca was in everything there, the smells, the sounds. She was around every corner and behind every door and I couldn't keep re-living the worst moment in my life every moment of every day. I had to leave her behind. Just for a while.

Rumors had also begun to surround me. The search party was still underway in attempts to find the filth, and it had somehow been leaked to the public that I had been the last person seen with him.

Hiding behind my hair I managed to not draw much attention, but still received some curious glances now and again.

A taxi finally pulled to a halt in front of me and I began loading my things. I had stayed at a hotel last night, so I still had all of my luggage with me. I was now going to see my father for the first time in almost a year. It seemed like longer. He told me he arranged a place for me to stay, so I told the cab driver the address he had given me and we began the short thirty-minute drive to the Upper East Side. I put on my headphones, clicked shuffle, and Down On Your Knees by Flora Cash began blaring and I began studying the crowds of people shuffling along the sidewalks, secretly wishing I could switch places with any one of them.

The cab driver managed to ease his way through most of the morning traffic and we arrived quicker than anticipated, so much so that I still had my music playing and it took several attempts for the cab driver to get my attention as he turned back to me in his seat, his hand waving back and forth in annoyance until I finally turned in his direction and removed my headphones.

"Sorry," I explained, embarrassment flushing my cheeks.

"We're here," he muttered unenthusiastically.

I glanced out the window and confusion washed over me.

"This can't be right, are you sure this is the correct address?" I moved my hair from my face, and my eyes strained as they glanced as far up as I could at the high rise, glass building before me.

"This is the address you gave me kid."

In a state of disbelief, I paid the driver and unloaded my belongings. Before my last bag even hit the pavement, I was greeted by who I presumed was the doorman of the building.