Page 9 of Knot All is Crystal
I don’t know why I bother asking. It’s the same answer every quarter. When I first asked her why, she clammed up and wouldn’t answer. I never asked again.
She has her demons, that much is clear, and it’s not my place to force her to exercise them.
After gathering all my equipment, I turn to the haunted Omega and run my eyes over the piece of art four years in the making.
All the way down Crystal’s thigh on her right side is my masterpiece.
Her first tattoo was a small flower on her upper thigh—just a little rose. By the time she had four flowers, I asked if she trusted me and would let me create something cohesive for her.
“All that matters, Gage, is that I can count them. Can you promise me that?” There was so much desperation in her voice that all I could do was nod and swear to her that she’d always be able to count.
Since then, several snakes have joined her flowers. They twist around a blank space in the middle of her thigh, framing the pale flesh for me.
I don’t know why she does this, but I hope one day she won’t feel the need to anymore.
And when she does, I’ll fill in the blank spot. I’ve had it drawn and saved on my tablet for two years.
I print out the stencil of the next snake I’ve drawn. I knew she’d be coming in soon and wanted to be ready. This one wraps around a few of the others before draping slightly over the blank spot.
It’s hard to design around the part of a tattoo that would usually be done first, but it’s a way for me to stretch my creative muscles.
Once everything is set up and I press the needle to her skin, her entire body slacks like she was a balloon I popped.
“How have things been?” I ask softly. Sometimes, she’s okay to talk; for others, it’s like she’s catatonic, the way she stares ahead blankly. Today seems to be in the middle.
“You ever wonder why we do it, Gage?”
“Do what?”
“Life.”
A single word dripping with so much sadness.
I want to know her in more ways than I do now. I want to find out what causes those feelings of hopelessness and destroy it. I would protect her from the dark shadows that haunt her eyes.
But I can’t.
Crystal is an Omega, and I’m a Beta. And as much as I like to think we’ve grown as a society, the fact of the matter is, most Alphas are not going to want to share their Omega with a Beta. I deal with enough Alpha assholes here, I don’t want to go home to one too.
So, my ‘no Omega’ rule holds firm.
Even if I have to spend a few hours every three months convincing myself that it isn’t a stupid fucking rule.
“I figure if I don’t do it, someone else will, and I can do it better than them,” I respond as I wipe away some of the excess ink. “There’s always going to be life until the world explodes, so why shouldn’t I be the one that gets to experience it?”
She hums quietly. “Not all experiences are good.”
I hear Trina snort from the cubicle next to us. “They certainly are not.”
Crystal startles, like she forgot that others could hear us. I watch as she bricks up those walls around her, and I try to slip in before she shuts me out completely. I point to a bowl of cherry candies I keep on my workstation and motion for her to grab one as I speak.
“I got a dog.”
Her eyes brighten, and an honest-to-goodness smile stretches her face. She pops the candy into her mouth and hums around it. “I’ve always wanted a dog! What kind? What’s his name?”
“Oh, he’s a mutt. I found him in a dumpster. His name is Burger.”
She laughs so hard I have to lift my needle so I don’t mess up the scales I’m inking. “Burger? Why did you name him that?”
