Page 3 of Monarch
I throw my phone onto the bed with a groan that is so guttural, it hurts my throat.
“Fuck you, Lex!” I shout out as if xe can hear me. “Fuck you!”
Xe did it again. I let xem do it to me again.
I collapse onto the bed and curl around the ache in my stomach. I can’t tell if it hurts more this time than last. Last time, I was shocked, taken unawares. But this time, I can’t blame the element of surprise. The only person I can really blame is myself.
And Lex. Fucking Lex.
METAMORPHOSIS PART TWO: LARVAE
Chapter One
Mari
Now - October
It takes me less than three minutes to nearly get killed by a bike.
I exit Amsterdam Centraal station fine, I walk a few hundred metres towards the bustling centre of the city, but then I hear an angry ringing of a bell, and just as I look around, there is a man on a bike ploughing towards me. His expression tells me he has no plans to move out of my way, so I yank my suitcase and jump back just in time. He shouts something at me as he flies past, and I take a moment to hyperventilate and stop my life flashing before my eyes.
Maybe that was an omen. Maybe this was all a big, big mistake. Maybe I should have kept Amsterdam on my no-fly list for the rest of my days.
But that is ridiculous. Amsterdam is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. And the tattoo convention I’m here to attend is one of the largest and best in Europe.
Besides, it was ten years ago. Lexi left ten years ago. They probably aren’t even here anymore.
And why should I let them dictate what I can and can’t do? Especially after ten years.
Fuck them. Fuck Lexi.
That’s what I hold onto as I use the map on my phone to navigate my way to the hotel I’m staying at, taking extra care not to get mowed down by any bikes. When I arrive at the townhouse where my hotel is located, I’m surprised by how nice it is. Even in the dark of night, I can see how smart it is, with fresh paint and well-maintained hanging baskets of flowers. Overlooking a canal framedwith trees that are orange and red with autumn and lit up by the sepia hue of the streetlights, the townhouse is black with white rectangular multi-paned windows. A gold plaque next to the huge front door tells me I’m in the right place. After struggling up the few steps to the door with my bags, I walk into a smartly decorated foyer.
Shit, Mum spent some money on this,I think, as my Vans trainers squeak on the tiled floor. I make a mental note to thank her as soon as I can, and then I check myself in with a polite man in a suit who only misgenders me once and blushes profusely for doing so when I correct him.
Once inside my room on the second floor, I’m yet more amazed that I have a canal-side view, and I spend more than a few minutes just standing at the window watching a lit-up tour boat go by and more bikes pass on either side of the water, the riders shadowy figures.
I text Mum in the group chat I have with her and her wife, Dove.
Dove texts back immediately, like she nearly always does.
Mum replies as I’m taking a few photos for Dove.
I text back.
Mum says.
I send over far too many blurry photos of the view and of the hotel room, which is clean and neat with possibly the biggest bed I’ll ever sleep in.
Dove replies.
Mum instructs before adding,
I pocket my phone and smile. Mum has offered me the chance to come to Amsterdam Tattoo Convention before, but I’ve alwaysrefused. I’d like to say it wasn’t because the city was tainted by Lexi, but that would be lying. But truthfully, I was also reluctant to go, to be the one to represent my mum’s tattoo studios at the convention. For a long time, Mum and Dove went and made a weekend of it. Dion went once five or six years ago, but he didn’t want to return. And for the last few years, Emmy, who manages Kay II in Bristol, has been the one to fly our flag. But this year, Mum asked me if I’d like to go. I think she’d used the words ‘Are you ready to go?’ and after I’d stopped bristling at the implication, I accepted.
I do feel ready. I feel ready to elevate my profession. I feel ready to explore this city and change its meaning in my life forever.
Sitting on the bed, I take my phone out of my pocket. I’m about to open my map again and find out where I can get a quick bite to eat nearby rather than pay through my teeth for room service, but I’m immediately distracted by a bunch of notifications.
