Chapter 144: Tattooed.

" I don’t give a fuck about what you want Lysander. I don’t care what you do with your body, you can go ahead and tattoo all of it. I don’t care, what you won’t do if bring me to a tattoo shop and demand I get a tattoo of your name on me. I will not be branded like a freaking cow!." no

Lysander looks at me. Then gives me the most tired sigh I’ve ever heard.

"Wait here for me."

He says then he walks out, i watch him walk back out of the tattoo shop, walk to the car, open the car and I dunno what he does but he stays there for a few minutes though.

Before he turns and walks back into the tattoo shop.

Standing in front of me he says.....

"Will you willingly get this tatto?"

No. Do you ever listen ? I just freaking told y....

Something wraps on my nose.

It’s a handkerchief, I open my mouth to ask what the hell that is. But i mistakenly inhale what’s on the handkerchief. I cough a bit and before I know it I start to feel dizzy.

That’s when i understand.... He just tried to knock me out conscious.

"Lysander you son of a bitch!."

Everywhere goes blur and before I know it I’m passed out.

———————

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the uncomfortable feeling of my clothes sticking to my skin.

I frown, shifting beneath the covers before slowly opening my eyes.

For a moment, I stare at the ceiling, completely disoriented. The room is quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Pale morning sunlight slips through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the furniture.

I blink a few times.

Why am I still wearing my clothe

I turn my head towards the bedside table. My phone is there, beside a glass of water. My shoes are on the floor, one near the bed and the other closer to the door.

What the hell happened last night? I try to remember, but my thoughts feel sluggish. There’s a strange heaviness in my head, as though I haven’t slept properly. I press my fingers against my temples and sit up slowly. I sit there for another moment, trying to make sense of the fragments, but the memories refuse to come together properly.

"Whatever," I mutter.

I need a shower and more importantly, I need to visit Victoria.

I haven’t seen her since yhe accident happened, and although Isabella has been keeping me updated, I would rather see her myself.

I throw the covers aside and get out of bed. My legs feel a little unsteady, so I pause beside the mattress until the sensation passes.

Then I walk into the bathroom.

The mirror reflects a woman who looks like she could use another twelve hours of sleep. My hair is a mess, my face is slightly puffy, and there’s a faint crease on my cheek from sleeping against the pillow.

I look terrible.

I turn on the shower, then reach for my phone trying to reach Isabella.

She answers after a few rings.

"Hello?"

"Morning."

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me.

"Don’t start. I’m barely awake."

She laughs. "Did you just wake up?"

"Unfortunately. Are you going to the hospital today?"

"Of course. I’m getting ready now. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes."

"Good. I want to see Victoria."

"Okay I’ll see you soon."

"See you."

I end the call and place my phone on the counter.

The shower is running behind me, filling the bathroom with the sound of rushing water. I glance at it, then decide to brush my teeth before getting in.

I pick up my toothbrush, squeeze a little toothpaste onto the bristles and lean towards the sink.

The familiar routine begins. I move my hand back and forth, barely paying attention to what I’m doing. My thoughts have already wandered to Victoria. I wonder if the doctors have given her an estimated discharge date. She must be going crazy lying in that hospital bed.

When deep in my thoughts when I feel a sting, I pause, toothbrush still in my mouth.

It comes from my finger.

I lower my hand and turn it slightly, trying to see what might have caused it. At first, I assume I’ve accidentally scraped myself against something.

But then I notice the swelling.

My brows knit together.

The skin around my ring finger is pink and slightly raised. I bring it closer to my face, examining it under the bright bathroom light.

And that’s when I see it.

Ink.

My entire body goes still as I slowly turn my hand.

There, on my ring finger, is a tattoo of Lysander’s name.

My toothbrush slips from my hand and lands in the sink.

The lettering is dark and clear against my skin. The area around it looks irritated, swollen and painfully sensitive. It is exactly where my wedding ring should be.

My lips part.

No. No fucking way.

I turn my hand again, as though looking at it from another angle might somehow change what I’m seeing.

It doesn’t.....The name remains there.

Lysander.

And suddenly, everything comes rushing back.

The tattoo shop, Lysander asking whether I would willingly get the tattoo, my refusal, the handkerchief and the strange smell.

M The dizziness that came over me so quickly I couldn’t even understand what was happening, then darkness.

My fingers begin to tremble.

He actually did it.

That son of a bitch actually went ahead and tattooed his name on my finger while I was unconscious.

I grip the edge of the sink.

The anger comes all at once. It burns through me, filling my chest until I can barely breathe. My eyes move between the swollen skin and the name written across it.

I had told him no and he did it anyway.

My ring is gone, but somehow he has decided that replacing it with his name is going to solve everything.

The pain in my finger suddenly becomes more noticeable. I curl my hand instinctively, then immediately straighten it again when the movement pulls at the sensitive skin.

My anger surges as a scream tears from my throat.

"LYSANDER!!!!!!"