My day at the tattoo shop had been slow, so I decided to leave early and head to the gym before I went to help Chuck with the bar. I threw my hair into a bun, what was left of it anyway. My hair had always been dark, long and pin straight. Sometime in the last couple of months I decided to cut it all off, and now it rested just above my shoulders. I still remembered the day I did it, although it was a bit fuzzy. I was drunk, obviously.
"You look good Scarlett." Val was waiting for me at the bar with a small smile on his face. It was Gunner's wedding. I really didn't want to go. I didn't really want to do anything anymore. I was wearing a light blue summer dress, my hair falling almost to my butt in small waves. At least I could get hammered off my ass and no one would be suspicious or question me about it. I had been drinking with some of the other girls while we got ready. Lacey doing my hair and Jazz forcing me to put makeup on my face by bribing me with shots. They were good friends, standing by me no matter how hard I tried to push them away. I was already tipsy by the time I got downstairs, barely managing to walk right in the heels Jazz forced me into.
"Nate always loved your hair. Said it made you look like the angel he knew you were under that devilish exterior." He said with a sad smile, tucking a strand behind my ear. I could feel my eyes well up with tears but I blinked them back. Instead of feeling sad I forced myself to be angry. He saw it in my eyes and backed away.
"I'm sorry Scar, I didn't mean to-"
"I'll be right back." I marched my ass upstairs to the bathroom, grabbing the scissors from the medicine cabinet. I cut it all to my shoulders, watching myself in the mirror through angry tears. I thought I did a pretty good job until I was sober the next morning. I made my way back downstairs, watching everyone's faces change into surprise.
"Now I'm ready." I threw a cruel smirk at Val before grabbing his flask of the counter and downing it. He looked at me, defeat so clear on his features as he grabbed his cut and shouldered by me. It burned more than the alcohol did, so I drank more.
"An hour of curling for nothing." Lacey huffed under her breath before dragging me out the
door.
I remember Lacey fixing my botch job the next morning. In order to even it out she had to cut it to just below my chin. It didn't look bad, but it wasn't me. I guess my drunk brain figured if I forgot who I was I would forget who Nate was too, since he was the person who made me who I am. Our parents were killed when Nate was 10 and I was 5. My dad was the president of the club at the time, making him a target. I think he knew it was coming, because he sent us to stay at the clubhouse that night. He tried to send my mom with us but she wouldn't leave him. I don't remember much of them, I remembered what they looked like but not the sound of their voices. I remembered being on my dad's shoulders as he walked around the clubhouse. I remember my mom braiding my hair and quietly singing to me as she cooked. But the one thing I could never forget was the love they had for each other. The kind of love that made them die for each other. The kind of love I swore I would never be a part of. Nate had always been my protector, but after my parents died he became more than that. Him and the club practically raised me. The club became my family.
I changed into my leggings and sports bra, studying myself in the mirror for the first time in a long time. My hair had grown a little and was almost touching my shoulders. I had hated my body for as long as I could remember. I wasn't super skinny like most of the girls from my high school and it made me hate myself. Those girls were tall and slim with legs like models. I barely hit 5'3, my body was average and I believed that I could never be beautiful unless I looked like them. That changed when I started working out and I had learned to embrace and appreciate the curves I had instead of hating them. My blue eyes seemed more grey than I remembered. My usually olive toned skin was in desperate need of some sun, despite the fact that we basically lived in the desert.
In the past couple of months I had managed to cover a large portion of my body in tattoos and a couple piercings. I guess you could say it was one of my many addictions. I had covered most of both my arms, a quote on my collarbone, one at the back of my neck, a pretty large hip piece and back piece, and a couple other small ones scattered around. I always thought they were beautiful and managed to convince Nate to take me for my first one on my eighteenth birthday. After that I started apprenticing to become an artist at the shop. Like me, Nate was covered in tattoos, most of which I designed for him. When he died I got my second tattoo, a hooded figure in the center of my back with its wings reaching up my shoulder blades. I had designed it for Nate. He said he wanted something to represent the club, but something more than just the logo. He always said that he liked the name Sons of Shadows because a shadow could be good or bad, an angel or a demon. So I made the figure cloaked as if it were a shadow, with one angel wing and one demon wing. He was supposed to get it done a couple weeks after he was killed, so I got it for him, but with both wings as angel wings. I knew that despite all the bad things he had done in his life, despite the life he led, Nate was my angel.
I shook the thoughts from my head and worked out until my body was aching. Then I went for the punching bag, letting go of all the anger I felt inside of me. After the sadness faded this is what I was left with. Pure rage. I punched the bag until my hands started to bleed, imagining that it was the person who did this. Val said they didn't know who it was, but I knew he was lying to me. They were just waiting on the right moment for retaliation, and Val knew if he told me I would go after him and probably get myself killed. him and I both knew that when the time was right, it would be me who pulled the trigger.