Miscreant

Boom, snap just like that.
Clap, snap nothing but that.
Your footsteps grow louder.
You realize its just the ringing in your ears.
How long has this been going on for?
Ever since you were there, you would like to believe.
The more you think about it, the longer you realize its been there, like a constant replay, and alarm trying to wake you up.
Boom, snap, anything but this.

~By Kate :P

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5. Wings or Wrongs

The warm glow of the blinking neon lights tingled my skin. Despite giving off a warm, fuzzy heat, nothing seemed to bring up my body temperature. I escaped to my favourite part of the city, the neon district. Here would be the typical layout of bars, strip clubs, and tattoo parlours. Not the most typical place to find a sixteen year old girl. Something about the breath of the drunken people, and the radiating happiness of teenagers who get their first tattoo is comforting. 

I enter my number one place, a tattoo parlour with a bar attached. This was the one place of the city that wasn't heavily monitored, so you tend to see lots of under aged drinking in this area. I flop myself onto my regular seat at the bar, pleased to find it moderately empty. 

"Wow, Ez," Hamilton, the bar tender lets out, shortly realizing that he didn't mean for me to hear that. I let out a chuckle, realizing there have been several changes to my appearance since me last being here. 

"Just the usual beer please," I sigh, hoping I wont have to explain much.

"I thought you died,"

"I think you should shut up," I snap back, wishing he never mentioned that. In my last few days of being absent, I almost forgot the previous events.

"A fake death, not very classy, who are you running away from?" He asks, cocking his head. His had reaches for a beer, and he slides it to me. Surprisingly, my reflexes also improved, allowing me to catch the drink with no problem. The door to the parlour opens, triggering the bells up top, warning their arrival. 

"Him, obviously," I motion my head towards Nate, who came with Nira, looking dead at me. They approach me, their walking completely synced. I cower behind my drink, hoping I could try to hide myself behind the beer. 

"What nice people you have acquaintance with," Hamilton chuckles under his breath. He continues to wipe the tabletop with his Star Wars themed cloth. 

Several drunk teenagers stumble into the parlour, all chatting about the ridiculous tattoos they want to get. I've been here long enough to know that each and every one of them are going to walk out of this building regretting the decision they make. So far the worst tattoo I have been able to watch was a portrait of the person's high school boyfriend on their leg. She came two nights later in tears, begging the tattoo artist to cover it up. She stormed out in worse condition than before because the cover up cost about as much as her school tuition would have. I sip my beer in amusement , remembering that memory. 

"Ten bucks a brony is going to get a rainbow dash on their arm," I whisper to Hamilton, bringing down my beer on the coaster. I wave for another. 

"Ten bucks he is getting that apple one!" Hamilton yells from the fridge. 

"I am totally getting a Twilight Sparkles!" One boy drunkenly slurred to his friends. He was hardly able to stand up by himself. 

"Ten bucks for me!" 

"That buys you another beer," He slides the second to me. I catch it again.

"Weird place you hang out in," Nate whispers in my ear, making me jump from my seat.

"Stalkers," I sneer, rolling my eyes.

"We need to make sure you aren't running around zapping people to death," Nira snaps back. Hamilton looks at me with confusion, raising an eyebrow at me. I give him a shrug.

"Well," I sip my beer, pondering. "I was thinking of getting a tattoo."

All eyes were on me, absolute silence. It was the worst feeling in the world. I pull myself up from the stool, and stroll over to my favourite tattoo artist. She was the definition of irony. Despite spending years in training to do this for a living, never in her life has she gotten a tattoo. That is what I love about her. Loved. 

Her eyes traced up from her note book, she was drawing an array of designs. They were my favourite thing to look at in my free time here. 

"Are you lost?" She jokingly sneers. 

"I want a tattoo."

Six hours later, I had an interesting design on my thigh. It was a blue deer, with a water colour night background, stars and northern lights splattered on the sky. Vibrant blue whips were surrounding the deer in an elegant manner. 

"Thank god you didn't screw this up," I whisper in awe.

"Give me one good reason I would do that?"

"I'll give two, I am slightly drunk, and exes tend to screw over their exes."

"Yes if you look closely, I put in a secret dick right there because you cheated on me," She points to a random spot on my leg. My eyes found it hard to focus on the spot. "Hey, didn't you die? I didn't just tattoo something on my dead ex-girlfriend did I?" She asked, concern building in her voice.

I let out a gasp of breath, I realized I had been holding my breath. 

"How about we just don't go there please."

 

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