Skins & Needles (COMPLETE)

Cracking Armor Part 1

Charlotte

I paused my work when Arsen asked that question, feeling my heart stutter and my throat close up. Rarely had I ever told anyone about my past. I didn't want it to taint my future, and reliving it caused a pain like no other, and I felt myself shutting down at the question.

But Arsen's hand on the back of mine was like a tracheotomy, and I took a fast, deep breath that cleared my mind. I was doing what I loved the most with someone who I wanted nothing more than to be open with, especially now that I knew his truth. The gun in my hand and Arsen's golden eyes trained on mine were all I needed.

And so I began.

"My last name doesn't come from my father," I opened with, and prepared my shader for the next section of Arsen's tattoo. "Andersen was my mother's maiden name. Since neither she nor my father wanted him in my life, I was named after her." I took a deep breath and dipped my shader in green ink.

"Who was she?" Arsen asked, and I smiled as I began working on his leaves.

"Her name was Elena Andersen, and she was my hero." I pictured her as I worked, her deep chestnut hair, her hazel eyes, her ringing laugh... "She taught me so much. She taught me to garden. Her favorite to plant were sunflowers. She taught me to cook..."

"She taught you well," Arsen added, and I laughed lightly.

"She really did. She was my biggest supporter when I wanted to start doing art. Even working three jobs, she always put enough money aside to get me whatever art supplies I wanted. Honestly, she was the most amazing person I've ever met." My face fell as my mind focused on the next part, and I swallowed a lump before I continued. "She left the country when I was seven, and never made it back."

Arsen was quiet for a long moment after I said this, and I was glad for the time to compose my thoughts. I'd never told anyone my story outright. Even Ryanne only knew bits and pieces. There was a lot to unpack that I usually avoided even thinking about.

"I didn't really understand it all until a few years later, especially since I spoke pretty mixed English and Norwegian until I was nine, but I learned that she had immigrated to the states when she was eighteen, and had to return to take care of her sick mother," I continued at last, the vibrations of the gun in my hand and Arsen's chest beneath my gloved palm grounding me. "I don't know if she ever tried to reach out. My father could have hidden it from me, of course, or something could have happened to her. I'll probably never know. She was from a small village in Norway. Besides that, I don't know much about her past."

"I had no idea," Arsen said, and I caught him staring at me as I spoke. A blush rose to my cheeks, but I tried to ignore it and focus on my tattooing.

"I kinda lost any accent I had in school," I explained, "and my father's lineage was extremely Irish. That's where I get my red hair."

"I know you've probably heard this a thousand times, but say something in Norwegian," he teased, and I laughed, despite the direction my story was heading.

"Ahhh," I said in momentary panic, not having touched the language in over a decade, "du er kjekk!"

Shit.

"What's that mean?" He wore a smirk now, and I fought to keep a straight face.

"I'll tell you later," I dismissed.

"Later tonight?"

"Just later!" I snapped, but it was through both of our laughter. When it died down, I cleared my throat.

"So your mom..."

"Yeah," I sighed. "She had no way of taking me back with her. Or didn't want me to go. Either way, she begged my father to take me in. I'd only ever met him once, but I just remember her in tears on his doorstep, pleading with him to let me stay. I remember him initially saying no... But eventually he changed his mind. Said something like, 'I'll find some use for her.' And he did."