Ink (flash fiction)

You're not supposed to relate to this.

I woke up with tattoos today. How they crawled into my arms and took root is anyone’s guess.

My dermatological defenses aren’t what they used to be.

The snaking serpents defiling my arms and chest are beckoning for their accomplices. I can almost feel them slithering, writhing for my attention. I won’t look at them. I can’t let them win.

One word weighs heavy on my mind. Removal.

I called the first Google-search hit I saw.

“Not even lasers will work, I can tell. These things usually don’t work out. Not with this kind of infestation.“

Infestation?

I hung up, more paranoid than ever. He didn’t even see the tattoos. I had only described them, their grip on me, their… voices. I shouldn’t have told him about the voices.

Then, I found the note.

I tore it off the fridge, “Tat appointment 4/23.”

Two months ago to the day. My handwriting.

There was a number written below, so I called, hands shaking as I tapped the familiar number into the phone.

The line crackled and I started in, “Hello, did we—did we just speak?”

“So, you know?“ The man’s voice sent a chill down my spine.

“No. I don’t know. Or, I do. I just… “

“It’s ok. You told me this would happen,” the artist said.

I swallowed my last drop of spit, mouth dry.

He continued, “Yeah. You made me promise not to let you get removal, or try to cover them up.”

“Why, why would I do that?”

“That, you wouldn’t explain. You paid me double, and even gave me a generous tip. You said the hassle would have to be worth it… “ The artist cut his thought short with a sigh.

“So, this isn’t the first time then?“ Sweat tickled my skin. Or was that the tattoos?

“Not even close. I’m actually starting to… “

“Worry?“ I interrupted.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I think I need another one,” I said.

“What? No. No more.”

“I’ll go somewhere else then.”

“No you won’t.”

He hung up, my arms still crawling.

I pulled on my boots, flung a black tank top over my shoulder, and slammed the dirty screen door behind me on my way to the tattoo shop, cigarette between my teeth, ink on my mind.

If it resonates, that’s not my fault.