Memories Of A Witness

Chapter Eight

How many hours had Megan been waiting already? 

The once beautiful colors of the sunrise had changed into a vibrant blue with little puffed clouds. Heat licked at her skin and her brown hair clung to her face. She felt faint and dizzy. She didn't know if it was because of the heat or of her malnutrition. 

Blaise's tattoo studio was located in the basement of a small residential building. It had its own separate entrance on the side of the building with a stairway entered from the floor above. Above the basement door was a hanging circular and purple wall sign mock-up and on it stood in old gothic letters, Katsu's underground tattoo parlor. The door was locked and Megan was standing in front of it, arms crossed, her head facing the rising stairs. 

The more time passed the more impatient she became. Why did she even decide to come here? Of course. Uncle Josh lashed out at her and wanted her out of his house. She got angry and acted irrationally. And her sudden will to come here was just an impetuous and ill-considered decision she made. Probably because, he was the only other close person she had beside Candice.  How would he react if he saw her? Hug her? Ignore her? Megan was sure that he would at least express concern after all the trouble she went through. They used to be in a relationship after all. That's what Candice said anyways. 

Out of the blue she heard footsteps. It was slow and light.

A cluster of sparks lit up her chest, a mixture of curiosity and panic. Her eyes were wild when she saw him. He was just how Candice had described him. 

He was black clad. His left arm was fully tattooed, but his right one was a half sleeve tattoo. His inky hair was messy, and black shadows were visible under his eyes, giving him a raccoon like appearance. His face was familiar, as if she had seen it before. But nothing came to her mind. Where there should be memories, was blank space. Only filled by the description of him. 

When he spotted her from the floor above, his expression didn't change. He sauntered down the stairs and retrieved a key from the pocket of his jeans. 

"We are an appointment only studio. Please contact us first, if you're planning to get a tattoo," he said and faced her his back to open the door.

What in the... Why was he not recognizing her? Or was he not Blaise?

"I didn't come for a tattoo. Are you Blaise?" Megan asked. 

"Yes, I am." He swiveled and faced her. At first it was the same bored expression, but slowly it changed to incredulity. "Megan?" He sounded totally engaged now. 

"Uh- hay?" 

His look altered again. But this time it changed on a dime. He stared at her with horror, as if she was some kind of monster. And it struck like a blow to her chest. She had a premonition of impending disaster. 

He rushed into the basement and swung the door closed. She heard a barely audible 'click', coming from the door, as if he had locked it from inside. No, he did lock it.

An onslaught of disappointment and sadness attacked Megan - two feelings she was well acquainted with. That was the breaking point of her patience. Her dad's death, Candice's outlash at her, her uncle's hate towards her and her lack of memory exhausted her. He was the last hope she had. She grasped for it, but it slipped away. Just like always. She wanted to hit the brick wall and scream at him why he slammed the door in front of her face. Why he was acting like an ass. What she did to him to cause such a reaction. Why life was treating her like shit. Why everyone hated her. Why someone was taking her family away. Overall she just wanted to belt out. Because she didn't have a single answer to all of them. She felt entrapped. As if she was in an empty room without a door. With no way to get out.

Burning rage hissed through Megan's body. Briefly, a sun-flash blinded her, causing her to wince. "Argh!" she shrieked and rubbed her eye until the floating spot was gone. Now that angered her even more. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was wary and breathless. He was disturbed by her presence. 

Her face had become rigid, jaw clamped tight. At least she had an answer to that. "I wanted to see you." 

"I thought... I thought you lost your memory?" His voice was becoming smaller and smaller. She wondered, why he was being so anxious.

"I did. Someone told me we were close."

"We used to be." His anxiety was replaced by suspicion. "Why did you want to see me?"

Megan told him about the incident this morning. "You see, I have nowhere else to go."

"I can't help you, I already have too many irons in the fire at work. Go back to your house."

"I can't. Why don't you want to see me? And why did you lock the door?"

A long silent went. "I don't understand," he muttered. 

"What don't you understand?"

"Nothing," he said briskly. "You shouldn't come here again."

"You seem to know something."

"No, I don't. And just for your information, a client will come by in 5 minutes, therefore I have no time for you. Go."

"No," she said sternly.  I'll wait until you're done with your work." Megan felt like her rage was pushing her to be  brave and bold, and she liked it.

"Alright, but don't expect me to talk to you." She heard retreating footsteps.

"Blaise?"

No response. She called his name again, and got the same response. 

She sighed and slid down, leaning against the hot brick wall. She hugged her knees. "It's not like I want to keep annoying you. It's just I have nowhere else to go," she mumbled to herself.

Megan brought out her phone and clicked on the contact list. Dad. She felt her whole body tense as she stared at his name. She shook her head. It stunned her how much a simple word could make her feel. But she was too tired and heartsick to think about him anyways. Actually, she was starting to manage her grief process. She decided to play the snake game again. This time she was more experienced and the length of her snake was getting longer and longer. 

"Uh, Ma'am, excuse me." 

Megan drew back in alarm and looked up to see a man with sunglasses, a red kerchief on his head, and tattoos on his ample arms. 

She stared at him intimidated and perplexed, before realizing she was blocking him from entering. "Sorry," she said and got up. Colorful spores appeared in front of her eyes and sshe leaned against the wall to not lose balance. 

"Are you Megan Maxwell?" he asked and looked at her surprised.

She stiffened and her eyes widened.

"Oy vey, I'm sorry for  what happened to you. Are you fine?"

"How do you know me?" she asked, ignoring the absurd question. Of course, she wouldn't be fine.

"You're all over the news, bud. Everyone knows you," he said and folded his big arms. Now he didn't look as terrifying as before. "Hang in there. They will get that bastard and they ought to give him the needle. But why are you here?"

The door opened and Blaise stood there, smiling, but with no humor in his eyes.  "Jeff! What's up, man. It's been a long time, how have you been?" 

"Morning, Blaise," he said with a little surprise in his voice. "You know, just watching over my kids. What 'bout you?"

"Just doing my everything stuff. How about you come in?" He beckoned with his head, without looking at the fragile girl even once. 

"Uh, sure, sure." The big man glanced hesitantly at her and nodded, before vanishing behind the mysterious black door. 

Megan looked down and saw her snake had died. It had run into an obstacle. Now she had to start all over again.