"What's that on your arms?" I asked the man with colors, all over his arms.
He crouched down to my level and grinned, "Those are called tattoos, buddy."
"Well, why do you have them?" I asked, stepping closer to him.
"Sometimes people get them just because, and sometimes they have meaning behind them." He explained, tracing the ones on his arms.
"People g-get them?" I gasp, then I whisper, "Like a disease?"
The mysterious man laughed, "Oh no, not like a disease."
"Well how do you get one?" I ask, then I add, crossing my arms, "I think I want one."
"Oh is that so? Well in that case, you go to a tattoo store, and you tell them what design you want, and they trace it on your arm." He says, in a whisper, almost as if it's a secret.
"Trace it? With what? A pencil?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows, in confusion.
"No, with a needle" he says, whispering that last part.
I gasp, putting my small hands over my mouth backing away, "Doesn't that hurt?" I ask
"Just a little at first, after a while you get used to it." he explains, grinning.
"Can I get one, right now?" I ask, "I want a race car, one!" I exclaim in excitement.
The man chuckles, "You'd have to clear that up with your family, and maybe wait till your older, your a little to young buddy" he says, ruffling my hair.
I giggle, giving the mysterious man a hug. "Okay! I'll go ask my mommy right now." I say, turning around to go tell my mom, sitting on the park bench.
But I turn, back again to tell the man thank you.
But he was already gone.
>>
"Mommy! Mommy!" I exclaim, tugging at her dress.
She looked up from her book and smiled, "Yes Ansel?"
I hop onto the park bench next to her, swinging my legs back and forth.
"I want a tattoo!"
Her smile, fades away.
"What's wrong mommy?" I ask, worried.
"What did you just say, Ansel?" she asks, her voice stern.
"I said, I want a t-tattoo" I said slowly, and carefully.
"And where did you get this idea from?" she asks.
My face lights up, at the thought of the mysterious man.
"Well, there was this man, and he had them all over his arms, and I asked him what they were, and he said they were tattoos!" I said, grinning.
My mom, wasn't very happy though.
"What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" she asks, rolling her eyes.
"B-but he was super nice mommy!" I said.
"I don't care. And don't you ever speak of 'tattoos' ever again, that's the devils work. You are a child of the Lord, Ansel!" she says, her voice raising, each word, although she was calm.
"S-so I can't get one?" I asked, in disappointment.
She scoffed, "Over my dead body."
>>
She died 5 years later when I was 11, from cancer.
I got a tattoo.
People like her were the ones that my mom had warned me about, people like her were toxic.
But it was to late.
I had already fallen for Sage.
And here we have the story of how I almost died, because of Sage. The story of how Sage helped me find my dad. The story of how I learned to live life a little more. This story has many many more thing's that changed in my life because of Sage, for better or worse? That I don't know.
But here's the story of how I fell in love with Sage Adams.
>>
a/n
i promise next chapter i'll get into the story! i hope you enjoyed this.
much love xxx
YOU ARE READING
Toxic
Teen Fiction"People like her, where the ones my mom had warned me about. People like her were toxic." "But it was to late." "I had already fallen for Sage."
