BACKGROUND
As told by the man himself.
 When your dad's a tattoo artist and your mother's a fucking slut, you know you're destined to be an asshole.
I was tough from the get-go. I had to be, with my mother jerking me around all the time, screaming at me. She divorced my father when I was three and went to live across town without me. I didn't see her again until I was six, when she came back all sugar and spice and tried to play up the mommy role. When I recoiled, she just went nuts again. Crazy bitch. I swear to you. She never wanted to have a kid, and was only eighteen when she had me. Dad married her, trying to do the right thing, but she wouldn't be tied down. At least he was around during the pregnancy to keep her away from the drugs. Not long after I was born, she went back to them though.
Dad, though. Dad's a good guy. He's just into all the wrong women. Bastard still dates these bitches that come around looking for money, or feeling up on his gun. Fucking sluts. But Dad goes through one to three of these girls a year, and they never get away with his money. Smart guy. And a good artist. He's done tattoos for some big names. And there I was, bouncing in the empty chair next to him while he worked. Little devil with a coloring book.
Anyway. All that you really need to fuckin' know is that I grew up. I played sports. And I was badass. The problem was my grades were average. I got kicked out of a few schools for fighting and it pretty much fucked me. I dropped out in my last year.
So I did the only thing I knew to do, follow in my dad's footsteps. I was apprenticing at his shop the same month I dropped out. I got to be really fucking good, too. I guess it's in the blood.
Things were fine.
Until I became VA+.
 Someone fucked up. I was getting my eyebrow pierced, and I guess the needle was dirty. You know, you try real hard to keep things clean and to do it right, but sometimes you overlook some small thing, or grab the wrong one. I guess that's what happened. Either way, while he was clamping the metal in, trying to close it off, I got a sort of shock, in my body. I don't remember what happened, but dad said I had a seizure. Ripped the ring right out of my brow.
When I woke up, dad was scared. He sent everyone home. He told me he'd seen it before, and he knew what I had. They might come looking for me.
I had never seen him so scared.
I didn't want to get him in trouble, because I knew he'd stand up for me if it came down to it... so I left. I didn't tell him where I was going. I just left. I couldn't work there anymore. I couldn't do anything, if they required a blood test. What the fuck was I supposed to do?
A week in the streets, and I heard about this place called Thalassa. I started going there regularly, stealin' money for it, if I needed.
Not too long after that, Peyton started working there. She was a hardcore bitch. And man, could she throw down.
The rest is history.
|
