It's a Punk World After All

Chapter 1

     My name is Iris Carly King. My past isn't the best, but I got through. What people don't know is the how to that statement. How did I get through my past? Well, it started with a tattoo. Yeah, I was pretty young when I got my first tattoo, but I didn't care when I got it, and I still get care now that I'm older. It's still probably my favorite tattoo. Before I tell you what the tattoo is and the meaning behind it, let's start from where my story begins. You know, nothing special, just how an innocent little girl gets turned into an extreme bad girl that's anything but innocent.

     I was born on Friday, November 24, 1995 at 5:55 pm. I was a screaming little baby that made my parents smile. My father, Wayne, was smiling. If you know him, then you know that him smiling was a rare sight. However, my mom, Carly, wasn't so lucky. She was smiling while holding me, but she only got to hold me for a few minutes. She died from giving birth to me, and just like that, my father's smile was turned into the biggest frown that you could ever see someone have. He started screaming and crying--the nurses had to take him away and I was handed to a nurse that was rocking me as she tried to fix a bottle of food for me. My father took me home a few days later, and he took care of me properly until I was about three years old.

     When I turned three, that was when Wayne decided that I was old enough to take care of myself. He went out every night, constantly getting drunk and bringing home girls while I was in my room, crying because I was hungry and in pain. Yeah, he beat me too, but it really wasn't that bad until I got older, so about five years old. When I acted up, he would put me in the basement for about a week or so without food and a little bit of water every other day.

     Anyways, life got more difficult the older I got, but I got used to rolling with the punches--both metaphorically and literally. Wayne invented his friends over to have their way with me when I was around six years old and some people would probably continue this story with 'I was diagnosed with depression by the age of eight years old,'  but no, I only got stronger emotionally, mentally, and physically. While Wayne was too busy injecting himself with drugs,  staying drunk all the time, and chasing me with the drugs to make me high too, I was building myself up from the ground to above and beyond the sky.

     I got my first tattoo when I was thirteen years old. My best friend Jasper Radke helped me get my tattoo because his father was a tattoo artist and he put in a good word for me. One day after getting into a really bad fight with Wayne, I ran to Jasper's house, and I was crying until Jasper opened up the door and we talked in his room for a while. After a while, I saw a tattoo book on Jasper's floor, and I picked it up. "Jasper why is there a book of tattoos on your floor?" I asked him while picking it up.

     "I was trying to draw them because I was bored. The ones I drew turned out okay, but I wish that I could draw juat better, you know?" he replied to me. I nodded while flipping thtough the tattoos. I saw one that really caught my eyes, and Jasper started staring at it too. "You know, when I saw that one I thought of you. It's really pretty, don't you think?" I nodded and stared at the piece of beauty that I held in my arms.

     "I really want it, but I'm not old enough for a tattoo yet," I said sadly. Jasper looked at me, then back at the book before rushing out of his room for a few minutes to come back with the biggest smile on his face.

     "My dad said that he would give you a tattoo, Iris! Isn't that amazing?!" he exclaimed while looking at me. I look down at the beautiful tattoo, then back up to him before nodding my head enthusiastically with the biggest smile I had ever held on my face in my entire life before running downstairs with the book in my arms to Jasper's father, Jax. I finally made it to where he was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking at me with wide eyes and smile full of amusement as he watched me. I showed him the tattoo that I wanted and he took me to a small office that he had in the basement which was more like another living room with a small tattoo booth. I walked in the room and he sat down on a chair.