Page 8 of Sinful Lies

She studied me for a beat, then shook her head. “You know it’s gonna hurt like hell. It’ll take at least six hours, and that’s just for the outlines. You’ll have to come back in a month for the color, and that’ll hurt even worse.”

“Perfect,” I replied, without missing a beat.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second, I thought she might call me out. But instead, she sighed again and nodded, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

I slipped off my top and bra, setting them aside before lying face down on the leather chair. The cold surface pressed against my skin, and I felt the antiseptic wipe glide over my back, cool and clinical. She carefully aligned the stencil, smoothing it into place before stepping back to inspect her work.

The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the silence.

I closed my eyes as the needle met my skin, the first sting sharp enough to pull a hiss from my lips. But I stayed still, letting the sensation wash over me.

I welcomed the pain.

Welcomed it like an old friend.

Because for those hours, the darkness in my head went quiet, retreating into the corners of my mind. All I could feel was thesting, the burn, the steady rhythm of the needle carving the dragon into my flesh.

And for a little while, that was enough.

Chapter

Three

“The urge to destroy is also a creative urge.”

?Mikhail Bakunin

Jade

24 years old

Six years ago

“But you don’t know anyone in New York, Jadie! I can’t let you leave. For what? A fresh start? To escape the ghost of your sister? To run fromme?”

I didn’t answer.

I just kept packing, each item I folded neatly into my bag as if it was the last time I’d ever touch any of it. I knew it deep in my gut—once I walked out that door, I wasn’t coming back.

I moved into the bathroom, the cold tile floor beneath my feet as I grabbed my shampoo, my toothbrush, the little things I needed to survive on my own. I stuffed them into a plastic bag, careful not to let anything spill.

“Jadie, please,” my mama’s voice broke. I could hear the desperation as she sank onto the bed behind me. “You can’t leave me too.”

I stopped for a moment, the weight of her words hitting harder than I expected.

But I had to keep going. I had to finish this.

I zipped the bag closed and slowly turned to face her. She was sitting there, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs that sounded like they were tearing her apart.

I sat down beside her, pulling her into my arms without a second thought.

This was the reason I had to go.

I wasn’t just running from the past—I was hurting her. Every day, the more I stayed, the more I dragged her down with me. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved peace, not to be tied to the mess I had become.

I couldn’t keep dragging her into my darkness.

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