Inked Scars

Tattoo Two- Hazy Numerals [tyler]

Chapter Two: Hazy Numerals

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SCARLET'S MIND WAS HAZY, maybe it had something to do with the three shots of straight, piercing vodka that she had downed during a night out with her associates. It was around three am when she'd wandered off of a lowly lit street corner- pupils diallated and little black dress pinching the sides of her body, begging to be peeled off and washed of the sweat from the night's activities.

That was when she'd noticed how alone she was, black ink permantly etched on her forearm in the picture of her childhood; Scarlet found herself thinking of how completely deserted that tattoo felt on her canvas of skin. That was when she'd stumbled away from her ride, eyes catching onto a bright sign for a tattoo and piercing parlor on the dangerous part of town. Logically thinking, she probably shouldn't have been swayed into the possibility of having yet another design on her body but with half of her brain shut down and a very low tolerance for alcohol, Scarlet found herself in a chair.

Watching a poorly disinfected needle trace words into her skin.

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"SCAR, DON'T DO ANYTHING YOU'LL REGRET," Jared had lectured as they'd made their way past the front gates of a local bar. The dingy place smelt of sex and urine, people either drunk off their asses or publicly displaying the same image as all those intercourse-education videos they'd scarred innocent Scarlett with at the pubescent age of thirteen. Maybe the feeling of claustrophobia had kicked in but she'd found herself, holding Jared close, trying not to breathe in the musky smell as he led her to a bartender with seemingly more tattoos dotting up his forearms than he had flesh himself. The man intimidated her despite his friendly smile and harmless stature, willowy with only slight definition underneath the ink.

And she never really had a taste for getting drunk but that night with the bartender eyeing her up and down in the skin tight dress she'd shimmied into, Scarle t just wanted to be a little less than sober. Jared needed to let loose and maybe just maybe, he'd tell her why he'd been a little more than sad that evening when he'd rolled up to her  apartment, dressed in leather and told her to put on her most fitted dress.

Of course, she should've been trying to coax him into admitting any piece of evidence that could lead to the discovery of why he was so upset.

Ignoring Jared's warning, Scarlet leaned across the bar, skin itching with the thought of how many people had sat there before her.  And she bit her rosy lip, ordering the bartender to give her the 'strongest thing you got' and silently congratulated herself over the look of complete and utter admiration that he'd thrown her way. She'd but her cherry red lip, leaning back and twirling a strand of sleek blonde hair, parted down the middle and framing her softly chiseled face, cheekbones high.

Her heels were high as was her moral as she planted herself on the barstool, locking eyes with the man ratty her drink around in his mixer.

She'd smirked, pulling the top off the jar beside her and popping an olive through her lips. It was a simple game of cat and mouse, one she played when she tried to be less of herself - a young girl who'd grown up too fast- one she played with the men around town as she sketched tats of their wives names on the transfer paper. Only twenty-seven and already learned the game of life, spouses cheat like dogs and men would buy any pretty girl a drink with just a bat of an eyelash and a raise of a skirt.

The exchange of flirtatious glances carried on until his attention was averted by another costumer and Scarlett crossed her tan legs, retrieving the drink she wasn't aware he'd poured. He took her money and she took a sip, spinning around with the glass perched in her hand and assessing those around her, her lipstick marks on the rim. Scarlett's eyes had caught Jared, chatting up some man on the forefront despite his sexuality which deemed him unfit to do so and she knew he'd quickly deny it when asked about the small bruises -love bites if you will- adorning the skin of his caramel toned neck the next day.

She sighed.

Downing her drink in a second, she'd slid from the bar, winking at the bartender before sashaying her defined hips to a more-occupied space on the dance floor, almost instantly being snatched up in the intoxication.

And she'd danced, occasionally stumbling in between a sweaty man pressed against her back and giggling to the bar. Her last order was three shots of vodka before the lovely man behind the counter had cut her off... A stranger had to hold her up, clean arms falling gracefully around her as he spoke in tongues. His eyes, a deep sea green and lips in a grin... Lovely, my my, he was lovely, Scarlet thought she'd never seen a man so pretty. His jawline sharp, his brown hair tied back into a small bun on the crown of his head. He had dimples, a small smile, a small beard and his eyes weren't foggy as hers had been.

She'd trailed her fingers on the scruff of his beard and she wasn't a young girl, the puffing of her cheeks being traded in for the slight pout of her lips as she wanted his number in place of ice cream at the age of five.

He shook his head and she'd felt her languid body shift, the stranger stepping away as she was placed in the arms of another.

"Jare-bear." Her voice was high, her eyes showing a happiness that she hadn't felt in years and that was the point that he knew it was time to go. He'd bid a goodbye to the lovely stranger, Scarlett talking gibberish about the man's eyes until they were safely outside, walking towards Jared's car. She was wrapped in his jacket and her high had dulled down.

"You shouldn't have drank this much."

That's what he used to say, brown eyes meeting hers and she'd find herself winding up at the thought of him acting as if he were disappointed.

She'd seen it as belittling.

Scarlet's movements were wild, unkempt, unmanageable and Jared had to keep her from stumbling backwards into the street on an occasion where she'd gotten too riled up. Her speech was slurred, her pupils dilated, "You think you always know what's... best for me? Y-you don't." Her hips began swaying, the bass from the beat following them outside and in a second, she was laughing.

"You're drunk, Scar, let's get home."

"I don't wanna go home." She was whining by then, her actions that of a child and she'd stumbled again before swaying slightly, Jared gripping her for support as she ripped her heels off.

He was dragging her to the car, attempting not to draw too much attention to themselves in a way that no one asked her questions about her safety. Jared hadn't liked those questions, the underlying meaning of 'is this man hurting you?' being too much for him to bear.

"Jared, stop, I don't wanna."

He'd rolled his eyes, stopping regardless. He was  obviously irritated with her unwavering defiance, a trait of hers she'd never cease to show but he refused to force her along. "You're drunk, Scarlet."

So close to the car but and they'd had to have this conversation yet again.

"Am not." She giggled, "stop being so grumpy."

Jared's head was starting to pound and Scarlett hadn't cared, "I'm not."

"You are, you've been grumpy ever since Veronica dumped you." That was a low blow and she hadn't heard Jared's breath being sucked in. In her fully aware state, she'd never once bring up something that had caused so much physical and emotional pain but she wasn't fully aware and she hadn't cared about the affect her words had.

"Get in the damn car."

But he had no conviction and his teeth were gritted as she disagreed one again. He hadn't stopped her as she turned and all but skipped to the nearest building only to walk in later and find Scarlet laying on a table as the date of Uncle Hunter's departure was inked into her skin.

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Dude, Ty here, it's been so long. Sorry babes I just have had a lot going on lately, um, this was... yeah but as you recover from my somewhat dramatic writing, look out for the next chapter.

xx