Free Moved by K.M. Liss

Chapter One
     
    I emerge from my
harrowing experience.
    He's leaning against the wall, in a
world of his own, his eyes are closed and he's sucking his cheeks
in, taking a long draw on a cigarette. I'm really pissed at him for
walking out ― just when I needed him most ― seconds before the crucial point of entry, into my
nervous and quivering flesh.
    “ Surely you could have waited two more minutes for a fix,
Mase? ”
    “ Nope,
I was desperate.” He blows out a long stream of smoke.
    “ I
thought you'd given the ciggies up?”
    He hadn't smoked for
two days, not to my knowledge, anyway.
    “ So
did I. But apparently, I'm not ready to.”
    I grab his arm and
drag him off.
    I'm damned
annoyed.
    We start to walk back
to our flat, around the corner.
    “ That
really hurt. I don't think it was properly numbed,” I
complain.
    “ Really? Could your body be trying to tell you something,
d'you think?”
    I huff out a sigh. “I
guess it is, but I really wanted my lip done.”
    “ Well
ain't that great, because now it is done, and guess what...pain's
included as part of the deal.”
    I shoot him a look.
He's so mean and sarcastic at times. I want a hug, not a
lecture.
    I try to put my
piecing experience behind me.
    “ What
d'you think, anyway? Nice?”
    Stupid question
really, of course he doesn't.
    He turns his head and
looks at it for a second. Then he grimaces, averting his eyes.
    I'm guessing he hates
it, like usual.
    I huff out another
longer sigh. Mason doesn't 'do' stuff like this, and doesn't
understand it. Tattoos and piercings, that is.
    Not that I've got that
many.
    Five tattoos, that's
all.
    So far.
    A wonderful black rose
on my shoulder, which I love to pieces. And a meaningful sentence
about life on my hip bone, in a beautiful scrolled font. It took me
ages to decide on it, and I had it written in Latin to accentuate
it's beauty.
    'Aut Viam Inve’niam Aut Faciam '
    W h ich means, 'I'll either find a
way, or make one.'
    The other three tats
are on my ass, one underneath each other. Faith, Strength and
Trust. All three done at different times, when I was going through
some really tough patches at home. My mum and dad getting divorced,
struggling with my drama course at college and a painful and sudden
end to a two year relationship with my boyfriend. I had them
tattooed in the perfect spot, invisible to the world. I was tucked
away in the tattoo closet back then.
    I plan on adding to
these, slowly, as and when I reach a stage in my life where another
crisis occurs, or, with a bit of luck, something wonderful happens
instead.
    My piercings are
sparse. To my mind anyway. The usual earlobes, three on each, one
tragus, and now my brand new upper lip stud, which I am incredibly
happy with. Pain aside.
    I flick the inside of
it with my tongue, without thinking, and a little too roughly it
would seem, as it smarts like hell.
    “ Owwwahhh...
Jeeesuss... ”
    Then I whimper, like a
baby, and press my hand to my mouth, trying to stop it stinging,
but it only serves to make it worse. My eyes are watering.
    He laughs,
unsympathetically.
    In fact he's always
unsympathetic when I drag him along to my latest session of self
abuse and mutilation. The idea was, that he should provide a
modicum of moral support, and hold my shaky hand, because I'm not
so brave on the pain front. Especially where needles and sharp
metal are concerned. There's only one other thing that scares me
more. Spiders. I am absolutely terrified of the creepy little
bastards.
    Anyway, it hasn't
worked out the way I would have liked.
    His idea of supporting
me is to act like the devil on my shoulder, digging his little
pitchfork in and shouting 'don't fucking do it, you stupid bitch',
and doing heavy verbal battle with my little piercing or tattoo
angel who's shouting 'more, more, bigger, bigger, be more daring
girl.... express...'
    Self abuse and
mutilation.
    Mason's terminology
for my stuff.
    I suppose it is in
reality.
    But personally, and on
a lighter