Maxwell had many tattoos, some of them were for fun, during drunk nights and dirty thoughts. He'd gotten the blonde beauty on his arm because of a dare, the hat of the jester with the little bells had been in a time of self-loathing, when he thought as a teenager that he was nothing but a puppet attached to his father's strings, a joke to laugh about and to entertain him as he danced around, doing all that the old man asked of him, only for him to never be satisfied.
Members of hell's heaven preferred tattoos, it was the best indication of their personality, when they were forced to wear dark clothes, there was no limitation on tattoos and piercings for their self-expression. That was why Bunny had a little pink soft tail, fluttery whiskers, and fur that looked soft to the touch, on her upper shoulder. It was why Cam had a red Ferrari being choked by a mythical dragon on his lower back. It was also why Spike had the image of a theatrical mask over his heart, and it smiled. But, Maxwell's first tattoo, he wouldn't say it was against his will, but it certainly wasn't wanted.
He still remembered after that incident in the dirty apartment, shooting that man through the chest. They had forced him into the car, back to the chapter base, and guided him up to the condo, where Reggie sat, waiting in the living room with his tools. At 14, he remembered the needle being unnerving, he heard from the others that tattoos were painful. He asked his father if it could wait, but the old man only scoffed, gripping him by the back of the neck. He was forced on his stomach against the cushions of the couch, held down by his arms, a bent knee digging painfully into his lower back. He struggled, but it was only for a few moments. Denying it further would only make him look like a fool. So, he let Reggie shave away just under his hairline at the lower back of his neck, giving him a look with his wide, bright eyes, that could have killed. He had been initiated, he was a member for the rest of his life.
The needle penetrating his skin in such a sensitive part of his body, it had been so painful, he forcefully curled his fingers into fists, just above the grips holding his wrists, pinning him to the leather couch with more force than was probably necessary. The surface was cold, and it smelled like a chemical cleaner, unavoidable when your face is literally shoved into it.
The brand took just over an hour, a sharp, rigid dagger with such a shiny blade that could penetrate any skin with a weak press, it had blood still dripping from its edge. The hilt was wooden and aged, like a fine wine. Above, in bold letters, was his name, LUCAS. It was because he was the descendant of an originator he would be forced to endure the choke of his family name. They said it was in case they found his body in such a condition that fingerprints and facial ID were no longer possible, but he knew better. This name, it would follow him for the rest of his miserable life, never to be removed from its taint across his skin. Now, he had done the same to her, out of rage and...fear
Her head pounded like it was being repeatedly smacked by a mallet, and the pillow didn't help, despite her efforts to shove it over her head, groaning. She had never drank that much in her life, and certainly, the hangover wasn't any incentive to do it again.
She opened her eyes, blinded by the light that crept below the pillow, but even that was too much, snapping her eyes shut. They fucking burned. Somehow, she found herself intact, granted her lower back and her neck would beg to differ, it hurts to have someone on top of you. Her eyes snapped open, realizing that she shouldn't have been laying in bed, she should have been having a heart attack and dying on the floor.
She felt mortified, digging her head into the sheets. Her throat was so dry, and her stomach was doing flips, certainly from the alcohol, it had to be the alcohol. But, the shift of her head caused a sudden rawness at the back of her neck, just under the nape of her hair. She didn't remember being injured there, but reaching back her shaky hand under the blanket, she felt a piece of gauze, held to the skin with medical tape.
She must have done something after she blacked out, fallen, maybe? but, the pain wasn't a kind she was familiar with. It almost felt like road rash, or she had tripped and fallen on a sidewalk. Pressing on it caused the pain to flair, but pulling her finger away had it ease, so she suspected the damage wasn't too bad. leaning up, uncovering her head from the pillow, she knew she was going to have to face the sun eventually.
She glanced out the window, eyes instantly squinted, moving away, hoping to ease the pupils into it. She looked over, eyes widened with a jump, pulling up the blanket on instinct at the sight of the man standing at the edge of her bed, looking at her with a face that said only one thing, annoyance.
How long had he been there?
"Get up" he referred to the matching blue suitcases with lilies set on the carpet next to his foot "Start packing" She watched as he moved across the room, ripping open the closet and starting to pull clothes from their hangers, tossing them on the floor. Perhaps it was the headache, but it had taken a few moments for his words to sink into her brain to the point she could actually understand and respond to them
"Packing?" she asked, running a hand through her hair. Are we not going to talk about what happened last night? "Where are you taking me?" A sudden bell in her brain started to ring, the spice in her stomach. Her stomach lurched with a slam, and she covered her mouth with a hot hand. He seemed to notice the noise she had made, and she stumbled out of the bed, not even caring she was basically naked with just the duvet wrapped around her, panic in her hot face.
She tried not to stumble over the long blanket, hurrying across to the bathroom. She ripped off the lid of the toilet, and fell to her knees only a second before her body seethed in a curve, forcing the disgusting, spicy liquid from her mouth into the bowl. She gripped its edge with tight fingers, feeling tears trace her cheeks from the force of her body. She hardly felt it when he grabbed her hair from behind, pulling the strands hanging from by her cheeks so she wouldn't get vomit on them as her body withered in pain. But, she did feel when the blanket started to slip from her shoulders, as she no longer had free hands to keep it in place. But, she felt it when he grabbed the edges of it, lifting it up back onto her sides from where it had slipped. She was only wearing her bathing suit from the night before, and she felt disgusting, to say the least.
"Jesus fuck" She expelled her stomach into the toilet at the sound of his exclamation, drool hanging from her lower lip as she felt a cloth wetted with cold water being pressed into her boiling forehead. She was grateful for that, but she would have been even more grateful had he stopped her from downing so many shots the night before, it certainly would have helped her avoid the situation she was in now. But, why hadn't he?
He had spent the night in the lounge chair in the corner of her room, it was horrible on the neck, but he wasn't ready to leave her alone just yet. He suspected this might be her first hangover, and the first one was always the worst one, especially with how much she had drank. Not only that, but he wanted to make sure she stayed on her side, in case she vomited during the night, she wouldn't choke on it.
When she felt her stomach settle, she leaned back, forcing her back against the opposite bathroom wall of the toilet, breathing heavily. "That's what happens when you drink," he said stiffly. He took some tissues, swiping them across her lips to get rid of the excess as her eyes fell hazed, suddenly feeling so tired she could pass out on the floor to sleep and she wouldn't even matter if it was the bathroom. He took the cool cloth, running it gently across the skin of her hot cheeks, so blazed they were red.
"I have a business trip" he responded to her earlier question, helping her up by the arms, keeping the blanket securely wrapped around her. Her legs were weak, she could feel the shaking under her own weight "And because it seems I can't leave you alone for five fucking seconds without causing complete and utter chaos in my life-" he grabbed her toothbrush, running it under cold water and placing toothpaste on the bristles "You are coming with me" he placed the toothbrush in her mouth, gripped the wrist of the arm at her side, lifting it to her face so she would grip the toothbrush sticking out of her mouth in front of the bathroom mirror.
She brushed her teeth weakly, listening as he went back to rustling through her closet, probably going through her underwear, it seems like his style. She leaned over the sink, spitting into the porcelain bowl, feeling relieved that the spicy taste in her mouth was starting to subside. It took two more brushings and swishes of water between her cheeks before she felt satisfied, spitting into the sink and running the brush clean under the spray. She looked at it with a disgusted face, and even though there was probably nothing wrong, she thought it best to toss it into the tiny bathroom garbage bin next to the toilet, the thought of putting it back in her mouth again made her want to hurl.
"What kind of business trip?" she inquired, peering out of the bathroom, looking at the mound of clothes he had created on her bed, certainly too many to fit in the suitcases, but she suspected pointing that out would only aggravate him. But, she was pleased to find it was the clothes with actual color to them, the rarity in her closet.
"None of your business" he ground out, and she only rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. "Now, pack!" he pointed at the pile of clothes with demand, before stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind him. She only sighed, glancing over at Zuni, laying on the dog bed next to the bedside table.
"My Princess" the dog got up at her beckon, and she brought the small, white bundle in her arms, holding her tight. The week without her had been much too long, and it had only felt longer with everything that had happened within. Is he just going to pretend nothing happened?
She found relief flooding over her, closing her eyes and snuggling into the dog's curly white fur. If he wants to pretend nothing happened the night before, I'm more than happy to oblige. It was the worst mistake she had made in her entire life, she was happy with the prospect of convincing herself it was all some sort of twisted fever dream. he would be doing her a favor by never bringing it up again. He still made her hair stand on end, it was an automatic response to his threatening presence, but holding her sweet baby was putting her at ease. "You're not allowed to get sick again" she instructed the dog, holding Zuni tightly against her chest.
The door swung open unexpectedly, and she jumped, nearly dropping the dog. She met eyes with him for only a moment, before he broke the contact silently, he threw a piece of fabric at the bed, shutting the door with a slam when he left. Can't you just exit a room like a normal person?! For fucksakes! She wanted to snap at him. The slamming of these doors certainly wasn't helping the throb of her head. She placed the dog gently back on the carpet, walking over to the bed to pick up what he had just thrown there. It was a light purple sundress, with flared edges and beautiful stitched edgings of flowers and butterflies no. It was one of those dresses you placed over your shoulders, folding the ends over and tying them into place against your waist. It was very pretty, and she found herself grateful for what he had given her.