The Rebel's Plot

Chapter 7

"Are you sure you still want this for the next ten years, Maude?" Pierre asks as he works on the stencils for the designs I have in mind.

"Yes," I reply quickly, though I'm not entirely certain. "Who bothers with ten years, anyway?"

"Maude, a great deal can change in just a year, and you ought to care. Your decision today will shape the next decade of your life, and I'd hate for you to look back with regret."

"Oh, I won't," I assure him. I've made a fair few mistakes when I was younger, and while this might be a different kettle of fish, I know I'd regret not taking the plunge now. It's terribly frustrating to want something and not be able to pursue it.

"Fine," he concedes. I can't quite fathom why he's behaving like this. He has just dismissed Oliver and nearly punched him in the face if I hadn't jumped in between them straight away. Is it the kiss, or is he simply acting like his usual self, unwilling to let anyone come close to me and knowing it would be impossible if he argues with me about the ink—something he'd love to do if I weren't so stubborn about finding someone else to handle it? I suppose it's the latter; he makes that quite clear, doesn't he?

As Pierre sanitises the area—clearly not trusting Oliver's assurances of cleanliness—I wander and spot three picture frames atop the chest where Oliver has placed the camisole I'm currently holding.

The first frame shows Oliver with Pierre, Caspian, Vermont, and Sebastian. The four lads are two years younger than Sebastian, who, being seven years my senior, stands out prominently. They're captured in a football team photo, with Seb proudly donning the captain's armband.

In the second frame, the group has diverged in their pursuits. Pierre has taken over Sebastian's previous position, Vermont is now part of the basketball team, Ollie is fencing, and Caspian is involved in archery.

The final frame is their graduation photo from last year's master's degrees. Although Sebastian wasn't originally in the shot, they've seamlessly edited him in so convincingly it appears entirely authentic.

Sevi is currently in his third year of a doctorate in Economics at the London School of Economics, whilst the others are about to start their first year of doctoral studies this coming October. Caspian has recently moved to Cambridge to commence his PhD in Global Health alongside his best mate Pierre, whereas Vermont is off to Sorbonne University for his PhD in Neuropsychology after his time at Cambridge. Oliver is continuing his PhD in Anthropology at Harvard University to be nearer to his mother.

"Mad? Everything's ready, and your skin should be as well. Come, have a seat."

I walk over to Pierre, who's already putting on a fresh pair of gloves. The snap of the latex is sharp in the quiet room. Pierre picks up a small bottle of alcohol and pours some onto a cotton pad. The cool liquid touches my shoulder blade, and he wipes the skin to ensure it's completely clean.

I stand still, feeling the coldness of the alcohol evaporate. Pierre takes a stencil and carefully presses it against my shoulder blade, smoothing it down with firm hands. He pulls it away, leaving a faint outline of the phoenix on my skin.

"Take a look," he says, holding up a mirror. I glance at the reflection, nodding in approval.

I turn my back to him, slipping off my crop top and replacing it with a camisole. It's thin, just enough to keep the area exposed. I lay down on the tattoo chair, feeling the surface cool against my skin. Pierre adjusts the chair, positioning me for the best angle.

He sits down beside me, picking up his tattoo machine. The hum of the machine starts up, a steady buzz that makes my heart beat a little faster.

With his free hand, Pierre stretches the skin on my shoulder blade, then lowers the machine to the outline. The needle pricks my skin, and I feel the sharp sting as it breaks the surface, followed by a deep, vibrating sensation.