The Tattoo Artist (SAMPLE, NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON)

4- Sawyer

The doctor's eyes turned to sadness. "Sawyer. I sympathize with you. I honestly do... I've been in your shoes before. And I once sat where you were, holding the victim's hand, praying for the same outcome you wish to happen with your sister."

Yeah, right? I'm sure all the doctors around here say the same damn thing. It's as if they're trained to say it.

"Sawyer, look at me."

"No," I cried, looking at Liliana. "You're only telling me what I wish to hear."

"You're wrong, Sawyer. I'm honest when I say this because it's true. Six years ago, I was here, doing exactly as you are."

My eyes shot up to his. "Six years ago? Who?"

"My daughter. My only child. Her husband beat her daily. She finally allowed me to help her get out of where she lived and to a shelter where she stayed for five months. The one day she finally felt safe, she decided to leave the shelter for a walk. It was the day her husband found and attacked her."

"I'm sorry."

"Believe me. If there's something I can do, I will do it in a heartbeat. I did everything I could for my daughter, and I'm doing everything I can for your sister. It's in someone else's hands now." He walked over to me and rested his hand on my shoulder. "Keep praying. It's all I can suggest you do."

***

I wasn't in the mood to deal with any drunk and obnoxious people today. Still, if I continue taking days off as I have been, I'll start seeing disconnection notices in the mail, and my credit cards will be slapped with high late payment fees, damaging my credit score. So, here I am, dealing with said people.

I turned, noticed a familiar face waving for my attention at the other end of the bar, and headed over to her. "Wow, we go without seeing each other for years, and here it is, twice in one week, we run into one another. How wild is that?"

"I know. Crazy how that works."

"What can I get for you?"

"I need four vodka cranberries, please."

Four? My brow lifted as I asked, "All for you?"

Lindsay laughed, shaking her head. "No." She turned around and pointed to the table with three other girls talking and laughing with one another. "They're for them as well. Do you remember Willow, Aubrey, and Dahlia?"

My head tilted to the side as I looked at each one. "I do. If I remember right, my cousin used to chase Dahlia around."

"That would be her."

"Small world."

I grabbed four glasses, filled them with ice, poured the vodka, and finished the drink with cranberry juice. "That'll be twenty dollars," I said, sliding the drinks toward Lindsay.

She looked at my arm as I took the money from her hand. "Is that what you had Roscoe do the other day?"

My eyes dropped to my arm. "Yes. He did an excellent job."

"He does good work." She stepped away from the bar, turned to her side, and lifted her skirt, showing me a massive-sized tattoo on her thigh. "He did this for me the other day, too. What do you think?"

My eyes widened. It's beautifully done. "Wow! I like it!"

She lowered her skirt and returned to the bar, smiling. "Thanks. I'm so damn happy with it. It was my first tattoo, and now I'm craving another one."

I coughed.

Is she serious?

"You had him do something like that for your first tattoo? Most people start small. You know. To get a feel for the pain and see if it's something they can handle."