Tattoos, a work of art displayed on the skin that helps represent the person wearing it. The designs may be interesting, the images fascinating. Pain brought about to ensure success from the artist. But not all tattoos are kind, some bite back at the wearer. Some leave an unwanted scar wrapped in torment. What is one to do when the tattoo fights back?
Getting a tattoo for my nineteenth birthday was supposed to be a gift from my best friend. She overheard me say I wanted one and insisted on paying. I was terrified of the needle they'd use on me, making me even more hesitant to going. She continued pushing me toward it, her main excuse being that she already paid for it. Why must she surprise me with such torment?
After arriving at the tattoo shop, the man behind the desk asked for our names. Upon seeing we already paid, he asked me what I wanted. Of course, I was nervous as all hell. I looked over to my friend, Jen, for she knew exactly what I wanted. She took out her phone and showed the image to the man. He took a glance at the image and back to me. His face twisted into a grin that sent a chill down my spine.
He began working toward getting it drawn up before tracing it on my forearm. My heart was racing as he did this, my friend beside me, helping me calm down. The artist even helped in doing so, saying that it would be over before I know it, that I'm getting it in one of the least painful places to get one.
They helped ease the struggle before the tracing was done and the needle was brought out. That's when I started panicking a little. After the machine was on, he grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye. "You need to hold still, otherwise the tattoo will be messed up and it will hurt much worse." He let go of my arm and went to work.
As he was giving me the tattoo, I was able to breath a sigh of relief. It didn't hurt near as bad as I thought it would. Granted, it didn't exactly feel pleasant. Instead, it felt like being jabbed in the same spot over and over, feeling numb after a while.
It felt like several hours had passed, but the tattoo was finally done. It was the image of a snake, twisted into an infinity symbol. I was absolutely in love with how it turned out. It was sore to the touch.
I was thankful my friend was with me the entire time, helping ease the pain a little as it was going on. We laughed and talked about the experience all the way home.
That night, as I lay in bed, I found it difficult to sleep. All I wanted to do was look in admiration at my new tattoo. I loved how it turned out, the way the scales on the snake aligned just right to follow its twisting body as it crossed itself in the shape of a sideways '8'. It was beautiful.
As I continued to be without sleep, I found that my forearm where I got the tattoo was feeling rather itchy. Was it safe to scratch it? I figured it would be and began scratching at it. The pain didn't subside, in fact it felt like the itching was skin deep, almost coming from the muscle beneath. I tried scratching deeper but no relief.
I looked down at the tattoo to find that the snake had straightened itself slightly and was a little higher up on my arm than it sat previously. I had to blink had a few times to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Surely I wasn't. The spot where I was scratching was now red, and far beneath where the snake now sat.
As I watched it, I saw the snake uncurl and slither even further up my arm. I knew one thing for certain, I needed this thing off of me. I pulled out my phone and quickly searched for the best and fastest removal for a tattoo. It mentioned several methods, all involving things I had no access to.
I shut my phone off and looked back at the snake. It was now nearly touching my shoulder. I knew what I had to do, though it was a painful process.
I grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer as my parents were asleep in the next room. I made my way to the bathroom next to my room. I tried to remain quiet, as to not wake anyone up. I raised the knife to my shoulder, where the snake sat, and cut into my skin. Immeasurable pain shot through my entire left side as I dug the knife deeper and worked it around where the tattoo sat. I peeled the skin off, trying as hard as I could to hold in a scream.
My best friend's parents were mortified when they told me what had happened to her a few nights ago. I felt horrible because I knew it had something to do with the tattoo I told her to get. From what they said, she cut the skin off her shoulder and bled to death. It didn't make sense to any of us, as the tattoo was on her forearm.
Getting a tattoo for my nineteenth birthday was supposed to be a gift from my best friend. She overheard me say I wanted one and insisted on paying. I was terrified of the needle they'd use on me, making me even more hesitant to going. She continued pushing me toward it, her main excuse being that she already paid for it. Why must she surprise me with such torment?
After arriving at the tattoo shop, the man behind the desk asked for our names. Upon seeing we already paid, he asked me what I wanted. Of course, I was nervous as all hell. I looked over to my friend, Jen, for she knew exactly what I wanted. She took out her phone and showed the image to the man. He took a glance at the image and back to me. His face twisted into a grin that sent a chill down my spine.
He began working toward getting it drawn up before tracing it on my forearm. My heart was racing as he did this, my friend beside me, helping me calm down. The artist even helped in doing so, saying that it would be over before I know it, that I'm getting it in one of the least painful places to get one.
They helped ease the struggle before the tracing was done and the needle was brought out. That's when I started panicking a little. After the machine was on, he grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye. "You need to hold still, otherwise the tattoo will be messed up and it will hurt much worse." He let go of my arm and went to work.
As he was giving me the tattoo, I was able to breath a sigh of relief. It didn't hurt near as bad as I thought it would. Granted, it didn't exactly feel pleasant. Instead, it felt like being jabbed in the same spot over and over, feeling numb after a while.
It felt like several hours had passed, but the tattoo was finally done. It was the image of a snake, twisted into an infinity symbol. I was absolutely in love with how it turned out. It was sore to the touch.
I was thankful my friend was with me the entire time, helping ease the pain a little as it was going on. We laughed and talked about the experience all the way home.
That night, as I lay in bed, I found it difficult to sleep. All I wanted to do was look in admiration at my new tattoo. I loved how it turned out, the way the scales on the snake aligned just right to follow its twisting body as it crossed itself in the shape of a sideways '8'. It was beautiful.
As I continued to be without sleep, I found that my forearm where I got the tattoo was feeling rather itchy. Was it safe to scratch it? I figured it would be and began scratching at it. The pain didn't subside, in fact it felt like the itching was skin deep, almost coming from the muscle beneath. I tried scratching deeper but no relief.
I looked down at the tattoo to find that the snake had straightened itself slightly and was a little higher up on my arm than it sat previously. I had to blink had a few times to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Surely I wasn't. The spot where I was scratching was now red, and far beneath where the snake now sat.
As I watched it, I saw the snake uncurl and slither even further up my arm. I knew one thing for certain, I needed this thing off of me. I pulled out my phone and quickly searched for the best and fastest removal for a tattoo. It mentioned several methods, all involving things I had no access to.
I shut my phone off and looked back at the snake. It was now nearly touching my shoulder. I knew what I had to do, though it was a painful process.
I grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer as my parents were asleep in the next room. I made my way to the bathroom next to my room. I tried to remain quiet, as to not wake anyone up. I raised the knife to my shoulder, where the snake sat, and cut into my skin. Immeasurable pain shot through my entire left side as I dug the knife deeper and worked it around where the tattoo sat. I peeled the skin off, trying as hard as I could to hold in a scream.
My best friend's parents were mortified when they told me what had happened to her a few nights ago. I felt horrible because I knew it had something to do with the tattoo I told her to get. From what they said, she cut the skin off her shoulder and bled to death. It didn't make sense to any of us, as the tattoo was on her forearm.
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