Her Inked Scars

home time

POV: Nyoka

This is humiliating.

I just met this girl and I've already made a fool of myself and I'm having a full breakdown in front of her. I'm having a breakdown on the steps outside her tattoo shop because my mind doesn't understand how to handle basic human interactions at a small party of mostly people I know.

I just want to leave. To go home and sleep and regret my existence.

This moment will be burned into my mind and haunt me for years to come and anytime I'll try to relax it'll come back to me and make me wince as I try to sleep.

My legs are shaking too much for me to stand and leave so I'm stuck leaning on Celeste's shoulder, unable to stop my gasps for air that I try to keep quiet and the tears dripping down my cheeks from my swollen eyes. My nose twitches as it starts to run and I wipe my face with my arm, instantly feeling even more disgusting.

Celeste, noticing my running nose and still streaming eyes, reaches into the pocket of her black jeans, passing me a clean tissue. I shyly take it from her, dabbing my eyes and nose before scrunching it in my palm like a stress ball.

My breathing takes a little bit longer to calm down and my heart still pounds in my chest, beating against my ribs. I hold my struggling heart as Celeste waits patiently for me to gather myself but even as my breathing slows my throat is still too dry and raw from crying to bring out any sound.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," she assures me. "Just take your time to calm down. Do you want a lift home?"

I consider it for a moment but do I really want this girl to know where I live? Perhaps I could give her an address close to my apartment and walk the rest of the way. Miss Colleen's voice echoes through my mind reminding me to talk to her before I leave but dread and anxiety flood my system at the mere thought of re-entering that hell of loud music and the growing scent of alcohol and sweat gathering in the air.

I must have been taking too long to answer because Celeste tiredly sighs, getting up from the step, holding her hand out for me to take reluctantly. She tugs me up, ready to support me as my legs shake. My hands fold in front of me, clenching around the crumpled tissue that, with all the sweat on my palms, is completely unusable.

Celeste rubs my back as I take deep breaths that return some stability to my limbs. She passes my bag to me, letting me hug it close to my chest like a comfort plushie.

"So?" Celeste pushes, clearly wanting an answer.

I try to get a sound out my dry throat as I nod, swallowing hard in an attempt to smooth the scratchiness at the back of my mouth. "I just need to tell my boss I'm leaving," I croak, instantly coughing.

"I'll go tell her for you, here," she places a ring of keys connected to a plethora of key chains into my hand as she steps towards the shop entrance. "My car's in the nearby car garage, third floor, on the left and to the back." She describes her car, giving me the end of her licence plate before setting me off, promising to be quick to catch up.

The instant she steps into the shop and the door glides shut behind her, my mind forgets everything she just described and directed to me. I just recall her mentioning her car being in the garage on the third floor. Uncertain of anything else she literally just said, I decide to walk really slowly in the direction of her car and hope that she catches up and can lead me the rest of the way.

I take exceedingly slower steps as the car garage enters my view with its blocky and steep concrete steps and the questionable lift. My heart is already pounding at the thought of stepping foot in that lift and my pulse only quickens as I notice the two men lingering at the bottom of the stairs, a crate of beers on the ground beside them, some already opened and drunk.