MODERN-DAY TRAGEDY

II. GHOST OF A WOMAN

"you, strange as angels dancing in the deepest oceans"

                    SHE REMEMBERED THE CHILDHOOD STORIES her mother used to tell her, ones that held warnings of the monsters lurking in the night. But they were nothing but fables now as her eyes gazed peacefully at the glittering stars. After her ruination, Devon had never been the one to fear the darkened skies but rather she was afraid of the monsters hiding in plain daylight, unknown to mankind.

There was something about the stars that made her travel an hour on the subway to the outskirts of New York City just to get a better glimpse. She couldn't see enough from her small city apartment, everything blurred and hazy. But here she could feel the wind tangled in her light brown hair. Devon continues to walk, feeling the softness of the grass beneath her barefoot, almost in desperation of feeling rooted. There was simply nothing left to fear for Devon, there was only so much one could do to hurt her.

Her haunting eyes wandered past the dim streetlamp and to a small tattoo shop. Ignoring her pounding heart, she smiled softly and made her way into the shop. There was only a boy, about her age, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at a sketchbook. Devon made her way over.

"Hi, do you work here?" She asked nervously. The boy looked up, startled, and she took the opportunity to trace over his light green eyes and curly brown hair.

"Yes," he paused, smiling, "Are you here to get a tattoo?" He set aside his sketchbook and watched her.

Her curious eyes caught a glimpse of the ink that swirled in the boy's sketchbook before he hastily put it to the corner. Devon shrugged. "Apparently so," she says smiling softly, wondering why her feet carried her to such a place like this.

✩

"Where would you like your tattoo?" The boy, River, asked. Devon's heart pounded as she lifted up her loose shirt, just below the soft curves of her breasts, and pointed to the small faint scar carved on the side of her rib cage.

Her mother had always frowned upon the idea of tattoos, claiming that it ruined the purity of which one's parents had bestowed him or her with. But Devon was the furthest thing from pure.

"Not the ideal place for someone's first tattoo," River said chuckling. He pretended to not notice how Devon tensed underneath his touch as he disinfected the area.

"If the woman in front of you got hit by a car, would you stop and help her?" She attempted to keep her voice light despite her pounding heart.

Looking up to meet Devon's eyes, River cocked his head and said, "You're strange, you know that?"

Ignoring his remarks, Devon continued at an even faster rate, "Technically, you aren't obligated to help the woman. In fact, the law encourages you to walk away." She said, sighing.

"Relax," River murmured softly, his piercing green eyes lost in concentration. Reluctantly, Devon forced herself to breathe, loosening her tense muscles.

"I would say that it's normal for people to get their first tattoos alone in the middle of the night, but I would be lying." He continued, chuckling.

"And I would say that it's completely normal for people to work at a closed tattoo shop alone in the middle of the night, but I would be lying." Devon swore in her mind, unsure if she had crossed a line.

But his smile, oh his smile, took her breath away. There are very few people, she then thought to herself, who truly smiled with their entire soul and River whatever-his-last-name was one of those.

"All done," he says, leaning back to admire his work. Devon glanced down and smiled. She had gotten a bee, roughly the size of her thumbnail. She had gotten a bee after remembering the story of how ancient Druids always had symbolized bees for being the sun. More than anything, Devon needed a sun right now.

The girl thanked him, before getting ready to leave.

"Devon?" River called out. In response, she turned her head curiously.

"I would help the woman. Screw consequences. I don't understand how anyone could just walk away from her."

How could anyone just walk away from her? She wondered the same thing, yet she knew there were countless people who would simply see the benefit in turning away and pretending it never happened. She wanted to scream at River, the beautiful boy who wasn't there in that room, simply because he was here. 

But she didn't, instead, she replied quietly, "You would be surprised to see how many people did that."