Sealed in Ink ¤ l.h. [The Bound: Book One]

~Prelude~

~Prelude~

She knew it was cold because her heavy exhaled breaths came out as white clouds of smoke once they slipped past her numbed lips. But aside from that, she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as if her own fragile body was immune to the harsh weather, or maybe after everything that has happened to her, nothing could hurt her further more than she was already hurt. The pain that she carried in her heavy heart, restless mind and fragile bones, was so rooted in her, so much a part of her, that she no longer felt anything but pain. Any other type of shallow discomfort, like bitingly cold night air, paled in comparison. 

She hardly noticed the passersby as she walked quickly through the streets of the city she grew up in. No one gave her a second glance as she rushed through. She was like a ghost. A determined ghost with a mission.

The 15 minute walk to the tattoo parlor stretched longer than that in her mind, but her pain kept her company all the way there. It wasn't until she saw the neon sign of the establishment glowing red and announcing it was open, that her heart gave away to the nerves. 

She hesitated at the glass door, because she had never done something so reckless and spontaneous like getting a tattoo. Her parents and friends would hate the idea... frown at her and tell her what a disappointment she was. That thought fueled her and she quickly pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The first thing she noticed was that the AC was off, whether because it was cold outside and there was no point on using it, or because it was broken, she didn't know... and she didn't care enough to ask. The second thing that caught her eye was the only two people inside. One was the tattoo artist, a slender young man with golden locks of hair and black clothing, which included ripped skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that she didn't recognize. The second man was the client, a robust white-skinned man with a bald head and arms covered in tattoos like long sleeves. Both men turned their heads to look at her when the doorbell rang as she walked in. She shied away from their gazes and stared at the floor instead. 

"I'm almost done with the gentleman, I'll be right with you in a few minutes, ma'am," the tattoo artist assured, his voice tinted with an accent that she couldn't quite place. A small voice in her head protested that she wasn't a "ma'am", but her mouth stayed shut, her lips pressed together in a thin line, as she glanced around the parlor before settling down on an empty chair at the side. 

She felt herself getting more nervous by the second, her right foot tapping repeatedly against the floor was the only visible sign. As she grew more anxious, she picked up a white binder on a small table beside her, she eyed the pages that were covered with tattoo designs, that ranged from girly to creepy models. Nothing in there looked like what she wanted to get, but she had expected that already, which is why she designed her own tattoo to give to the artist.

A few minutes went by and finally the artist was done with his male customer. Apparently he had drawn a snake around the man's neck, the only place that wasn't visibly completely covered by tattoos. After thanking him on an "sick tat" and paying the price of his design, the bald man stood up, wished the seated girl "good luck" and disappeared out the door. 

"Your turn, sweetheart," she heard the young tattoo artist say. There was no tone of flirtatiousness in his words, it sounded more like something he said on a daily basis. Part of his regular vocabulary.

_

He watched the girl fiddle nervously with her fingers before standing up and hesitating momentarily before walking up and seating on the client chair, he watched her without her noticing as he changed the needles in his tattoo gun.

She had pale blonde hair that went down to the middle of her back, fair pale skin and sad but very bright blue eyes. They were the color of sapphires, he noted, unlike his clear-sky blue ones.

"So what can I do for you, hun?" he asked while taking off his used gloves and fetching new ones. He would never admit it but he was a bit of a neat freak. Which he guessed was very good where his job was concerned. If he maintained a good workplace hygiene, the less chances that his clients developed an infection through their tattoos. 

When he was finished with the gloves, he sat down next to her again, waiting while she pulled something out of the back pocket of her jean shorts. She then handed him the folded piece of paper. Curious at all the mystery, he unfolded it and studied it.

It was a bird. But instead of being caged in, like most girls ask for, this one had a caged heart on its chest. 

He glanced up from the piece of paper to the blue eyes of the girl who was already looking at him. 

"Why is his heart on a cage? Why not the whole bird on a cage?" he found himself asking. It wasn't that he found it illogical, he just wanted to hear her reasoning behind the design.

For a long moment, she said nothing, and he almost regretted asking her, but with a quick intake of breath, she opened her mouth to explain.

"A bird can appear free to everyone around it, but that doesn't mean that it's not caged by the matters of the heart. Making the right decisions, making its loved ones proud, doing what's best for itself, all these things keep it caged. It can keep flying, soaring through the skies, but it's never truly free".

_

She waited for him to say something, to tell her that her logic made no sense, but he said nothing. Instead looked at the paper again, before folding it and handing it back to her.

"Is this your first tattoo?" he asked as he changed the colors in his gun.

"Yes," she replied simply, her voice sounded far away to her own ears, as if it were someone else answering from her body.

"It's going to hurt. You know that right?"

Again she said yes.

"Alright. Where do you want it?" 

She struggled with the buttons on her plaid shirt, but she managed to undo them, revealing her chest.

"On my heart," was her response. 

She felt herself blush, when he told her she would have to take the whole shirt off so that he could work without ruining the shirt. She did as he asked though, laying on the recliner leather chair in only her black bra and washed-up shorts. 

She bit her lips as he hovered over her, the tattoo gun in his hands, getting closer and closer to her skin. She hissed at the first touch. He stopped and looked at her, concern slipping into his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She could only nod to urge him to continue.

"You're allowed to claw at the armrest of the chair if you need to," he offered. She followed his advice, digging her nails on the leather and telling him she was ready.

He gave her another second to brace herself and again started at her skin.

This time instead of making any sound of pain, she dug her nails harder on the armrest and bit her lip until she tasted blood. That's all she did until he finished her tattoo.

Once he was done, he handed her a palm mirror and her heart swelled with something close to joy at the sight of her new inked skin. 

"Thank you!" he blinked at her outburst but then smiled when she jumped to give him a hug which she gave to him after she buttoned up her shirt once again. 

"It was... nothing," he said awkwardly whilst scratching the side of his neck. 

"It's perfect," she said in return. She quickly handed him the two twenty bills she had on her pocket and thanked him again before walking towards the door. She stopped with a hand on the knob and turned her head back, she found him still watching her, and blushing at being caught.

"My name is Gabrielle by the way, I thought you should know since you'll be seeing more of me," she said wittingly.

She saw his bright white smile widen at her statement.

"I'm Luke and I look forward to seeing more of you".

At that she walked out of the tattoo parlor and into the still not cold-enough night.