In the dim light of dawn, the soft rays of the sun peeked through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. Lily stirred in her bed, tangled in sheets that felt foreign against her skin. As she blinked awake, the remnants of a dream clung to her like mist, elusive yet suffocating. It took a moment for her to recognize the familiar confines of her bedroom, the walls adorned with photographs that captured fleeting moments of joy and laughter.
But as the haze of sleep lifted, an unsettling chill settled in the pit of her stomach. A flashback crashed over her, vivid and uninvited. She was transported back to that night—an evening that had begun with laughter and warmth but had spiraled into a nightmare. The laughter of friends faded away, replaced by the echo of her own heartbeat thrumming loudly in her ears.
In her mind, she saw the dimly lit street, the conversations her friends were having. She could feel the warmth of the bodies around her, the intoxicating mix of excitement and freedom. But then, a shadow loomed, and the atmosphere shifted. The laughter became a distant memory, swallowed by a sense of foreboding that wrapped around her like a dark cloak.
The flashback became sharper, more defined. She felt the pressure of hands that were not kind, the weight of a presence that made her skin crawl. A scream echoed in her mind, but no sound escaped her lips. She was trapped in a loop of terror, her body a mere vessel for a horror that she could not escape.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought against the memories that threatened to consume her. She had thought she had buried that night deep within her, but here it was, rising like a tide, relentless and unforgiving. She gasped, pulling her knees to her chest as if that could shield her from the onslaught of recollection.
Suddenly, she jolted back to reality, the sunlight now streaming in fully, illuminating her room in an almost comforting glow. The familiar scents of her home wrapped around her, yet they did little to dispel the darkness that lingered in her heart. She felt raw, exposed, as though the flashback had stripped her of the layers she had carefully built around herself.
With shaky hands, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. A simple message to a friend felt monumental, a lifeline thrown into the vast sea of her pain. But the thing is she didn't have any friends, the ones that were with her that night ran away and left her, to the hands of a man who ruined her life.
The weight of her past hung heavy, like it was just yesterday it happened, but it was already six years. But yet she would get a reminder every time she woke up in the morning, reminding her that she was broken and nothing was going to fix her.
Lily stayed in her bed trying to calm herself, few minutes later she got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for another depressing day.
She went into her huge bathroom that could pass for a master bedroom, avoiding the mirror, she brushed her teeth in rehearsed patterns and then took a quick shower. She walked into her walk in closet That could also pass for a big bedroom to pick an outfit, it wouldn't take time anyways because she always dressed the same. Big black hoodie, black baggy pants and nothing more.
She didn't like makeup or any jewelries,she would put her clothes on brush her hair with her hands and wear some perfume and she was done.
When she was done she quietly went downstairs to make breakfast for herself. Her house was gigantic with huge chandeliers with a price tag that could buy an island and more expensive furniture that could buy an entire country, but yet here she was broken and with no family.
She sighed after standing at the bottom of the stairs overlooking the living room. Pushing away memories that would break her, she made her way to the kitchen. Grabbing a box of cereal she grabbed a bowl and poured it in and went to the fridge to get milk only to realize she was out.
"Ughh" she groaned closing the fridge with a loud bang and walked out of the kitchen.
She entered the living room and grabbed her car keys and left the house, she walked to the garage, in the garage was a motorcycle, a customized purple g wagon, an suv and a beat up Kia.
She ignored the fancy cars and went into her beat up Kia that she loved so much. Her parents might not be present, but they never forgot her birthday so every year she got an expensive gift that she really didn't need.
She drove quietly with no music to her place of work.
She worked in a tattoo parlor, it was a place where she found peace from all the pain.
She walked Into the dim light of the tattoo parlor, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink. Posters of intricate designs adorned the walls, each telling a story of loss, resilience, and rebirth. Among these works, one stood out—a beautifully rendered phoenix rising from the ashes, its feathers vibrant against a backdrop of darkness. This was lily's work her artistry breathed life into the very souls of those who walked through the parlor's unassuming door.
She loved her job, she loved hearing other peoples story, and she also loved giving them hope by giving them new tattoos to make them feel stronger. But yet she couldn't find peace within her self.
After the incident lily became a shadow of herself, not talking too much and dressing in clothes that were too big for her slim and petite figure. With her pale skin, jet-black hair cascading down her back, and a wardrobe full of black baggy outfits and a messy hair, she was a haunting figure against the backdrop of everyday life. Yet, in the world of tattooing, she had found her sanctuary. The parlor, aptly named "Elysium Ink," catered to those who had lost faith in life, individuals seeking to reclaim their stories through body art. It was a space where pain transformed into beauty, and Lily was its most skilled artisan.
Each day, she sat at her workstation, surrounded by the gentle hum of machines and the soft murmurs of clients sharing their stories. She listened intently, absorbing their heartbreak and struggles like a sponge. For her, each tattoo was more than just ink on skin; it was a visual testament to survival, a reminder that even in darkness, there could be light.
"Hey Lily" her manager Scott who was covered in tattoos from head to toe waved at her, she broke into a smile, "how u doin' Scotty" she replied walking to the counter where he stood.
"Doing good as always" he said smiling "and how are you" he asked her.
"I'm doing good just a lil hungry I might have skipped breakfast because I ran out of milk, so my breakfast is on you Scotty boy" she said and both of them chuckled.
"Well no problem, anything for my favorite employee" he said smiling at her and she smiled back.
The door swung open, and a young man stepped inside, his eyes clouded with sorrow. He wore a faded band t-shirt, and his arms, marked with scars, told tales of battles fought and lost. Lily recognized the look—he was a soul seeking solace. As he approached her, she offered a warm, inviting smile, one that seemed to pierce through his gloom.
"What brings you here?" she asked softly, her voice a gentle melody amidst the buzzing machines.
"I want a tattoo," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something to remind me that I can rise again. I've lost my way, and I need a sign."
Lily nodded, her heart aching for him. "Let's create something together." She motioned for him to take a seat and pulled out her sketchbook, the pages filled with swirling designs and ethereal creatures. As she sketched, she encouraged him to share his story. With each word, a vision began to form in her mind—a design that encapsulated his pain and hope.
After a few moments, she revealed her sketch: a delicate lotus flower emerging from murky waters, its petals unfurling towards the light. "This represents your journey," she explained. "The lotus grows in the mud but blossoms beautifully above the surface. It's a symbol of resilience and rebirth."
Tears glistened in the young man's eyes as he studied the design. "It's perfect," he whispered, a flicker of hope igniting within him.
As the tattoo machine buzzed to life, Lily focused intently on her work, her hands moving with grace and precision. The needle danced across his skin, and with each stroke, she poured her heart into the piece. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of the tattoo gun, a soothing backdrop to the healing process taking place.
Lily found solace in the act of creation. She understood that for many, a tattoo was a bridge between the past and a hopeful future. She transformed their scars into art, reminding them that their stories were not just about suffering but also about strength and survival.
After a while, the young man looked down at his newly inked lotus, now etched permanently onto his forearm. "Thank you," he said, his voice steadier. "This means more to me than you know."
Lily smiled, a warmth spreading through her. "You did this. You chose to rise."
As he left the parlor, a newfound lightness in his step, Lily felt a sense of fulfillment wash over her. She took a moment to gaze around the tattoo parlor, her sanctuary. Each client who walked in carried the weight of the world, but through her artistry, she had the privilege of helping them lift that burden, if only for a moment.
Scott looked her with admiration and smiled handing her a brown bag, " I'm really proud of how hard you take your job, it's amazing" he told her as she took the bag and took out the donut and boba drink, she smiled although it didn't reach her eyes.
She could help others with their pain, but no one to help with hers….