Life has a funny way of presenting itself.
The parlor was called the Club Tattoo. It was in Las Vegas, of all places. For its logo, it had a black club, like the one in a deck of cards. The irony of the name, logo and place was not lost on K when she found herself, on that day, in that parlor.
Her life had dealt her many a thing; she was there to take control.
As she waited for her artist, she knew that she had to continue to move past her past. It was another step in her journey to assert her control on her present, and become in charge of her future. For others, especially those that never knew her or what she had been through, it could have come across as insignificant or even crazy. Yet, deep in her heart, she knew that it was anything but.
The tattoo on her foot was her first and only. Getting inked on one’s foot can be painful. However, K didn’t feel much of anything. In the almost 4 hours of the artistry, she barely twitched let alone agonized. Instead, she felt a sense of satisfaction, a gratification that only empowerment can provide.
“I will pay you $50 to make her cry”, her friend that had come along to support told the artist in jest. While the artist smiled the comment away, it did get a reaction out of K. It was not quite the one her friend literally meant. Instead, it made K appreciate the treasure that good friends can be.
It had lasted for thirteen years, the relationship. It had its ebbs and flows; it went through its crests and troughs; it had its ons and offs. They, K and her boyfriend, in their best times seemed poised to connect. However, darkness eventually settled over these times; the dusks of indignation, hurt, and sorrow slowly overshadowed the lights of happiness.
The final blow was that act of physical violence: despicable, heinous, undeserving. In her growing years, she never had had even an inkling that she, of all people, could ever be a victim of domestic violence. Yet, she had to confront it because of the man, to whom she gave her trust, betrayed her.
All the scars that she had received before then, she hid them deep inside the chambers of her heart and put up a façade of well-being on her self. This charade, she decided had to end when the latest scar was one she could no longer hide. Her masquerade just wasn’t good enough to put a veil over what had just happened.
She ended the relationship, it if could still be called as such, right then and there. In fact, she went further: got a restraining order against her ex, filed a domestic violence police complaint and stood resolute through the entire legal process. She felt tested. But, her determination only grew with each step she took and finally, she succeeded in her effort.
The scars that she had endured faded away as her self-confidence blossomed. She conquered her emotional scars with a smile. Over her physical scar, she let a purple flower bloom, one which reminded her everyday what her true worth was.