HURTS LIKE HELL

7. A Bitches Game

Kara

It wasn't the butterflies I came here for. 

It was the mockingbird. 

I did read "To Kill A Mockingbird". In the story, a mockingbird represented the idea of innocence, so to kill a mockingbird meant to kill that innocence. I was a mockingbird. Even if there was ever innocence in me, it was destroyed. Until all that was left, were scars and nothing. 

It got me thinking. If a mockingbird represented innocence, I wanted to be the evil that destroyed it. Because that's who I was and that's what I did. And I wanted to be reminded of that every single day of my life. That's, the reminder I needed to be marked with. 

Beau had just begun to outline the mockingbird on until I stopped him, "Wait." 

Immediately, he lifted the needle off my skin and looked up at me. "Did that hurt?"

I blinked. He looked worried and I wasn't used to being looked that way. To being looked at all really. "No", I said, "I want to change it." Beau frowned and before he could ask, I told him, "I want an arrow." He'll never look at me like that again after I say the next. "Pierced through the bird." It was scary how cold I definitely looked then, that there was zero emotion on my face and in my eyes. I expected a reaction from him. I didn't know what reaction but I expected one. Instead, there was none. 

"Where exactly do you want the arrow?", was all that he asked. His eyes, unreadable but attentive as they watched me. 

"The chest." That's where it hurts the most.  

I didn't dare to hold his eyes, because I was afraid to give it all away. I tried to hide it. I've been trying for so long. But there was pain inside me and my eyes would be a dead giveaway. The pain outweighs the dead. It would be better to die than to live in pain. In suffering. 

But I just couldn't die.

My chest ached more when I felt the pad of his thumb softly trace the faint outline of the mockingbird on my hand. First, James. Now, Beau. What was it about today? I hated it all. I didn't know why. Maybe I missed being touched that way. Being caressed. But at the end of the day, I knew it meant nothing. 

I kept my eyes on the left wall when I heard him say, "Ok."

We didn't talk anymore after that. Beau concentrated on my tattoo while I thought about many things. 

Things I shouldn't be thinking about. 

People I shouldn't be thinking about. 

A boy I shouldn't care about. 

A boy I still care about. 

And I thought about cruel things. The things that made this reality. That made this my reality. Its' so cruel, so wicked and I was just ruined.

When Beau finished, I looked down to find a tattoo different from my request. I was speechless by how perfectly drawn the bird was, but surprised to find the arrow I asked for clutched between its beak. 

"Why -"

"I don't usually go against a customer's request but . . ", he delicately grasped my fingers in his, lifting my hand so I got a better view. "I had a strong opinion about this one."

"Is that even allowed?", I grumbled. I didn't know how to feel about the tattoo he drew. It wasn't what I wanted, but I didn't dislike it either.

He hissed. "No. I just hope you won't sue me for this."