To Perceive an Image

Twenty-Eight: Images of Meaningful Tattoos

The Image World, September 20, 2040, 9:24 PM

"Come in," Flynn's words halt the knocks on the opposite side of the door.

The door opens, and a small arm wiggles its way through the small opening. Judging by the all-too-colorful clothes, I bet Malak's the culprit. Her closet had the biggest color range I've ever seen.

That ugly ass neon green color? She has a tank top in the same color.

Blue so deep that it causes one to hallucinate? No worries, there's a shirt in the same color.

Neutral brown? Of course, here are four pairs of leggings.

And the list goes on and on.

Said arm waves at us before another arm that I'm sure belongs to Ruby joins the waving fest. We let them have at it before Flynn gestures for me to stay quiet. I nod, trying to keep my laugh quiet.

With the stealth of a cat, he raises himself from his bed. The bed I had the honorable joy of sleeping in. This reminds me, every piece of furniture in this home objectifies the word comfortable for the body. My back has never felt this comfortable while sitting, and that says something. I have to either steal this chair, buy one from home, or stay here 24/7, so I never leave this chair alone. Oh, and seeing Flynn would also be a bonus for that last one. My pulse raises the slightest bit when thoughts of him return. I'm dramatic, now that I think of it.

It's not like they left, but the girls distracted me from my romantic predicament. Stop thinking about him for one second, Azail. No, I won't. It's not every day that the experience of a handsome guy who sounds like a woman was his author confesses to me. And I sure as hell will take advantage of this. A happy scenario isn't in my script often, so I'm grasping this opportunity like fucking glue.

Thoughts of a promising future aside, I return myself to the present. The silent lightness in Flynn's steps impresses me a dramatic amount. In no time, he comes to a stand behind the door. Making sure to stay hidden from the small openings on both ends.

In quick motions, his arms lunge forward, grabbing both of their wrists and tickling them. Once their initial startled screams settle down, childish laughter decorates the home because of its sheer volume.

"Stop attacking us!" Malak shrieked, still screaming somehow.

"What's the code word?" he says, not pausing his brutal tickle attacks.

"I-I don't know, Azail help!" Ah yes, the Azail card, real smooth Malak.

Flynn makes this better by saying what he does next, "sorry Malak, she's kind of tied up here. I attacked her first before you got here. You'll have to save the three of you." He makes his voice sound threatening. If I didn't see the joking glint in his eyes, his act would have convinced me of ill intentions.

I look at him before mouthing, huh, with my face scrunched to show him my utter befuddlement at his words. He takes his words to the next level by grabbing a spare shirt I saw hanging behind the door and throwing it at me. I control my loud urge to scream-laugh when this man deadass motions for me to tie the shirt around my wrists. When he sees my urge to laugh increase, he takes it upon himself to show me how to tie the shirt around my wrists. How he knows how to do that is unknown to me. However, I am too dirty to prevent my mind from making up a kinky explanation. So, I will choose to hush.

"Yeah, and if you don't get me out of here, then we'll all be in trouble because of your brother." The way I hear the desperation in my voice makes me let out an uncontrollable laugh. But I'm not joking, rare feelings of sentiment danced around my being a few moments ago, and now I'm thinking of kinky shit. I'll let myself have a confused laugh.