Pierced

Using all of the strength inside me I switched the phone off.

It was raining, and dark, and I hadn’t ever driven in that section of town at night. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to find the tattoo shop that was advertised on the card he’d given me that first Saturday at the airport. My hands were trembling and were slick on the wheel of the car. I wanted to turn around and go home—to get rid of the cell phone. To get a new one. To move, even, because he knew where I lived.

I couldn’t do this. This wasn’t me. I didn’t want to be dominated this way.

I found the street. I could see the bar up ahead. It’s lights were on. That made sense; it was the height of the night there. But a business. It surely wouldn’t be . . . but there it was. The tattoo parlor had its lights on and an Open sign was blinking in the window.

He was standing behind the counter when I entered—smiling. A new piercing, one at a nostril. Piercing fourteen.