Ultramarine -- REWRITTEN

Twenty Seven. [h.s.] -- REWRITTEN

          My first day had brought many surprising events. The first was Aria, where I had bled with terror the moments prior to revealing my tattoo to her. Internal bleeding consisting of what if's pooled in my chest and clogged my lungs. If I took a deep enough breath, I'd surely cough up blood.

          But the first surprise, after I had (attempted, and succeeded to), confidently confess my tattoos to her and how I wanted to change, was her reaction. She blinked a few times with an indifferent expression before looking back down at her monitor as if it wasn't anything new. She began to type and I considered repeating myself.

          "You're not the first."

          I had been expecting widened eyes, frantic yelling, demands for me to reveal the tattoos and confess where I had gotten them, and guards to drag me out of the room to lock me up as I awaited my fate. I was ready to press the button on the inside of my wrist and fight my way out of someone's grip and the fatigue of an anesthetic dart. I hesitated.

          "I'm not?"

          "No. Citizens who get a second chance more than likely have come in to remove their tattoos. They don't want to remember their little rebellion," she explained, looking back up at me. She pressed her fingertips together, resting her hands on the desk. "Someone will be in shortly to remove your tattoos." She gave me a forced smile. "Thank you for taking advantage of your second chance, Harry. I assure you that you'll become very happy here in the Association." I nodded and returned the smile, resisting the urge to sway back and forth on my heels. There was a knock on the door before someone entered, explaining that he was here to remove my tattoos. Aria nodded and instructed us to leave before stopping me. "Also, you are no longer under my command, so you no longer report to me."

          The second surprise was how much the removal hurt. Fire licked the deepest layer of skin as a laser traced over the black ink. It turned the significance to ash, cremating the memories that I had linked to each tattoo. I didn't scream, only stiffened the muscles as if it would stop the burning from crawling across them. My jaw hurt afterwards from clenching so hard and my skin was red and blistered, replacing the ink with scarring that was assured to disappear within 48 hours. My body was clean for the first time in years, but I missed the filth.

          The third surprise was the question I was asked when I stepped down into the laundry room.

          "Have you taken your capsule?" asked a dusty blonde haired man with basil eyes. He was shorter than I, but seemed to make up for his height with sharp features carved from a knife. Streaks of dark oil along his cheeks contrasted against his pale skin. He rubbed his hands on an equally dirty towel as he waited for my response, his forehead and cheeks glistening from the sweat. Other co-workers had stopped what they were doing to watch the two of us and all of them were greasy in one way or another.

          "Of course," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and straightening my back.

          A slow smile appeared on his lips and he chuckled, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. He glanced back and waved the towel in his hand.

          "Don't worry guys, you can keep working," he hummed, turning back to face me. The men nodded and progressed with their work, clanking echoing throughout the room. "None of us take our capsules, except for Lucas over there." He turned around and pointed to a black haired burly man, comparable to a bear. The man raised his head and waved his hand; I recognized him as one of the men that replaced Charmaine's sheets weeks ago. It had only seemed like yesterday. "He takes one for the team and takes them every other day so we can all learn from him how to act normal here. Not too much for him to go against us, but not too little to the point where he can't act normal."