Tasting Insanity

Chapter 9

Scar. His father's name was Scar and for some reason, it sounded familiar like i had heard that name before but can't remember when.

When i left the prison after Carter urged me to go to the address written on my hands, i couldn't help but think whether he was the only one who could protect me. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that in his story, his father was the bad guy and he put him in there. I wanted to ask more about his relationship with his father but i didn't wanna press or sound nosy. I was, however, hoping that he would tell me about it during one of our next sessions.

True to his word, my boss really tripled my salary. My bank account never had this many zeros and i had to keep this from my father at all cost.

I was still in the Uber, yet to reach home when i thought of Carter's words again. "You have to protect yourself at all times and since you're in this shit because of me, the least i can do is help you protect yourself while im caged between these fucking walls." He said. Were his intentions pure or did he just want to trap me? Owning a gun without license could make me his cellmate if anything.

Was i really going to trust a stranger who said he wanted me to protect myself? Why? Because no one has ever offered that before? Was i really that stupid?

Maybe i was going to be stupid for once and listen to a murderer who wanted to protect me from his father and maybe or not, regret it all later but i was going to be stupid today. What did i have to lose anyway? I didn't have anything or anyone to lose. It was a risk worth to be taken.

So, i did it. I asked the driver to take me to the address Carter had written on my hand. Within twenty minutes, the car came to a stop, signaling we have reached my destination. "I'll be right back." I said to him before walking inside the tattoo shop. Carter said it would be a tattoo shop with a flag which had two crossed swords under a skull and crossbones with an eye patch printed on it hanging in front of his door. He also said when i entered, tell the tattoo artist named 'Blackbeard' that i want to get a tattoo of the black pearl as that was the secret code or something. To me, it just sounded like his friend was a huge fan of the pirates of the Caribbean movies but i kept that to myself.

"Hi." I smiled at the green haired girl sitting at the reception desk, painting her nails black. "I want to see.... Blackbeard?" It sounded ridiculous. This whole thing sounded ridiculous. The lack of reaction from the girl proved that she was familiar with the word, name, whatever.

"Come with me." She stood up and started walking further inside the tattoo shop. The interior of the tattoo shop typically had a distinct atmosphere that reflected the artistry and creativity of the tattooing industry.

The walls of the shop were adorned with artwork, flash sheets, and photographs of previous tattoo work, showcasing the diversity of styles and designs available. The tattoo stations themselves were typically located in a separate area, with each station featuring a comfortable chair or bench for the client to sit in, as well as a wide range of equipment and tools for the artist to use.

As i followed behind the green haired girl, i noticed artists in the process of designing or creating a tattoo for people, while others were consulting with clients about their desired design and placement. There were clients getting tattooed, with the sound of buzzing tattoo machines and the occasional gasp which made me cringe for some reason. I felt their pain. I shook my head, avoiding to look at those whose skin were being pierced.

"Hey Joe!," She shouted to a bald man covered in a tattoos who was in the middle of tattooing himself, adding yet another piece of art on his body. "You got a visitor."

Joe guy stopped doing what he was doing, stood up and walked towards me. He looked at me up and down before saying, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"I want to get a tattoo of the black pearl." I said, trying not to sound ridiculous. Surprise flashed before his eyes but he quickly shook it off with a smirk. "Ah, i see." He cleared this throat before he turned his attention to the green haired girl. "I'll take it from here, Jess." Nodding, Jess walked away leaving me alone with the big guy who could crush me in the mere palm of his hand.

"Come with me." He said, starting to walk further inside and stopped in front of a room with a purple painted door to match the vibes of the tattoo shop. He removed the key from his pocket and opened the door, revealing darkness which was soon replaced by light, neon lights, the second he switched the lights on.

"Come inside. I don't bite." He said, his tone changing from scary to friendly in a matter of minutes. "I meant the question i asked earlier. What's a girl like you doing here?" He asked as he settled in his couch, gesturing me to sit as well in one in front of him.

"I want to get a tattoo of the black pearl." I repeated earning a sigh from him. "Why?" Was his question. 

"Carter Hale sent me." I surprised him yet again. "He said you're a friend and you could help me out."

"Carter Hale." He chuckled, shaking his hand before he stood up, opened a closet full of arms, weapons, knives. Who knew a tattoo shop could have all of these stuff hidden. "Carter's a mate of mine, all right." His strong British accent made me slightly cringe but i didn't show it. I always thought British people spoke funny, especially those with a strong accent. "Any friend of his is a friend of mine."

"You'll give me a gun?", I asked, feeling unsure about this whole thing. I have already yelled at myself for being stupid several times in my head but went through with the idea anyway. 

He raised a questioning eyebrow at me. "Do you even know how to use a gun?"

"No." I answered honestly. "I just need it for my protection."

"From who?"

Was i suppose to tell him all of these stuff? I thought i told him enough, more than he needed to know anyway. I decided to keep it at that and gave him a shrug, "I don't know."

"Carter Hale is in a cell, honey." He removed a pistol, a glock 19 and shoved it on the bed. "You're the psychiatrist they hired to help him get bail, aren't you?" He looked at me carefully, "It's okay. You're safe here, darlin'. Carter's like a brother to me."

"I didn't know i would find myself in such a situation just because i accepted a job in order to help someone." I sighed, looking at my shoes, realizing that my father could already be awake by now. "I should get home soon."

"I figured." He smiled, pointing to the gun on the bed. "Only use if it is absolutely necessary." He paused, giving me a card with his information on it. "If you ever kill someone by mistake, give me a call."

Once i secured the gun in my bag, i couldn't help but felt like i was doing something illegal. My subconscious reminded me that i was, in fact, doing something illegal. The whole way back home in the Uber, i couldn't stop thinking what kind of people have introduced themselves to me and got involved in my life.