There was always a story behind every tattoo. "What does this one mean?" She pointed to the butterfly printed on my chest. My breath stiffened, it was to soon to tell her my story. Her petite hands trailed up my body, I watched her eyes mentally scan every image that covered me. She looked into my eyes with fear and curiosity. "please tell me", she breathed out. "Okay" I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. A smile slowly crept onto her innocent face. I cannot believe I agreed to tell her my story. Her story now.