You May Hold Me but I Am Not Your Slave

“Please hold still.” I mumbled to the man sitting beside me. I pressed the needle into his arm…for the 5th time…and began tracing the outline of a Dragon. Cliché right? Yeah, but he is young, and this is his very first tattoo, so he will learn, “Sam I said hold still!” I now screeched at my friend.

“God I’m sorry! You need to mellow down with the needle, Aaliyah. You’re not shooting anyone up.” He sarcastically said back.

“Do you want me to give you a tattoo?” I asked strictly.

He rolled his eyes and sat still, “Yes.”

“Then shut up and sit as still as possible.”

“Alright Goddess Aaliyah.” He said my full name for the 2nd time now, so I flicked his head, “Sorry, Goddess Ali.”

“Thank you.” I shifted in my stool and made it squeak against the linoleum floor as I got back into work. It was 9:46 pm, way past closing time. I worked-no owned- a tattoo parlor. I inherited it from my foster dad who past last summer due to cancer. I’ve been working here for only 4 months though; I had to wait until I was of legal age to run a business; 18.

“You know Ali, I’m going to take you shopping tomorrow.” Sam randomly told me,

“You need to start dressing like a lady.”

“I do dress like a lady!” I said shocked.

“Honey, it looks like you had a fight with scissors.” He pointed out. I looked down automatically at my wardrobe. I faded blue jeans sprinkled with bleach (On accident I swear) and a way off shoulder band shirt. My knees poked out of my jeans and they looked like I tucked and rolled out of a car way too many times. My shirt was bought at a Metallica concert and I, by myself, cut the top off so it hung off my shoulder overdramatically. The only things that aren’t shredded or cut up are my bra, underwear, and red leopard tank under my shirt. My converse are actually pretty beat up too, hey I walk everywhere!

“Ha-ha! No way, I’m comfortable in what I wear thank you very much.”

“Well, can we at least go get’cha a nice hair-cut?”

I dropped the needle and held my head; protecting my famous blonde locks, “Never.” I whispered with fight.

“Your hair is so long though.”

“And I tend to keep it that way.”

“Can we just get your split ends off?”

I hesitated. The last time I ever got my hair trimmed the lady ended up cutting 5 inches off my straight but wild blond hair. I don’t want my hair to ever be that short again; I like being able to feel my hair and the small of my back. It tickles. But then again, it does look gross having dry ends. I sighed and breathed heavily, “Fine.”

“Yes!” he yelled in triumph.

“But only the split ends! Absolutely nothing more!”

“You have my word.”

I nodded and picked up the needle from the floor and got up from my stool. Sighing I walked out of the back room and into the front. This needle was now contaminated and I need a new one. I took off the ink carriage and put it on the front counter, and then dropped the needle into a fresh bowl of sterilizer stuff. It was dark in the front of the parlor, because we are closed. Sam is a friend of mine so he gets the cool back stage crap. I bent down behind the counter and started rummaging through the cabinets. It took me awhile before I heard the crinkle of the plastic bag covering the new needle.

“What’s taking you so long Ali?” Sam yelled from the back.

“I just found the needle chill!” I yelled back getting up. I bent my head in concentration as I tried to open the bag. It just would not open!

“Hurry up!”

“Hold on Sa-!” I started.

“Maybe turning on the lights would help.” A new voice filled the room as the lights flickered on. I blinked at the brightness.

“Um, we’re closed.” I stated when the man came into view. He was tall, built, in a leather jacket and clean shaven, but looked like he just rolled out of bed. A girl stood next to him. She was short, almost like a pixie, but still very pretty. I paid more attention to her skirt then her actual face though. It was white and had sequins at the bottom, kind of like a gypsy.

He chuckled darkly, “I know that silly girl. We aren’t here for a tattoo.”

“Okay,” I said stepping behind the cash register, “Are you here to make an appointment?”

“Did I not just say we aren’t here for a tattoo?” he asked annoyed.

“Yes you did, but you never said at the specific time.”

“I don’t want a tattoo!”

“Then you have no business being here at this hour, now I’m asking you to leave. Good bye and have a good night.” I said walking over to the door opening it for them.

The man walked over to me calmly but then slammed the door shut from my grip, “I’m not going anywhere yet.”

“Sir, I’m not sure of what you want. If you don’t want a tattoo or an appointment I have to ask you to leave, now please go!”

“Ali? Who’s here?” Sam asked from the back room.

“It’s nothing Sam!” I replied, “You two really need to go.” I said turning my attention back to them.

“Listen girly, how about this, you come with us and I’ll let you poison our skins with your needles. Does that sound fair?” the man suggested walking slowly into me. Our legs rubbed against each other as he backed my into the front counter.

“N-no.” I stammered. I tried not to show my fear. My foster dad taught me not to show any weakness.

“Oh come now my pretty bird and I do say you are quit ravishing, why can’t we do this the easy way? I really don’t feel like hurting you.” He purred.

I gulped my fear down that made my body shake and pushed him away with all my strength, “Sam!” I screamed. Even though Sam is gay, he isn’t the girly gay. He can kick ass.

“Dammit!” the man roared. He ran back to me and grabbed onto my arms, tugging me towards the door.

“Ali!” Sam yelled running in. He collided with the man hard, bringing him to the floor. I was free from the mans grip so I hurdled myself over the counter top and to the phone. I dialed 911 and waited impatiently. The annoying voice came onto the phone.

“Hello, what is your emergency?” the phone chimed.

“My friend and I are being-.” The phone was ripped away from my hands and thrown against the wall, shattering for no further use.

“No one is going to help you Aaliyah, that’s just the harsh truth of reality.” The man kneeled down to my side, gathering me in his arms. I fought to get away, but his arms cut into my sides like iron. I stopped abruptly though, how does he know my name? I turned to look at him. His face had sharp features. High cheekbones, strong jaw line, green almost yellow eyes, and a slightly crooked nose, probably from a fight. He had a thin scar that ran down from his temple the curve of his jaw, looked like it belonged to a knife, or razor. I ripped my eyes away from him to the girl walking to us. She jingled with every step; I looked down at her ankles, and noticed an anklet with large bells on it. He lifted me up off the ground and pushed me into her arms.

“Don’t touch me!” I yelled at him.

“You don’t have to worry about me touching you.” He snarled. “Olivia, you take her to the car, I have to get rid of the body.” body? What body? My eyes flashed to the ground and settled on the bloody body twisted sickly like a corkscrew.

“You murderer! You killed Sam!” I screamed running to Sam’s side, “Oh my god! You killed him!!!”

“Oh shut up! Olivia, take her to the damn car!” he yelled and dragged me away from Sam. The girl who came with him helped me, different from forcing me to my feet, and let me fight away from her grasp. But I didn’t win. I struggled to stay out of the black Chrysler 300 but ended up having the door slammed shut in my face. I sat back…remembering what my dad taught me. I can’t fight anymore. They have me locked in a car and Sam is dead. No one to look after me now. My foster parents are both dead and my only friend is dead too. I’ve never been the social one, I’ve always been shy, but tonight I’m going to scream. The driver door opened and Olivia got in.

“Who the hell are you people? Where are you taking me? Why do you want me? How do you know my name?” I asked in a hurry. I wanted answers, and to get away.

The door next to me opened and slammed shut. The man slid in next to me, “Drive Olivia.” He demanded.

“Nathan, don’t you think we should explain things to her?” Olivia suggested calmly as she pulled away from the curb and sped down the street.

“Yeah, Nathan, don’t you think I have the right to know?” I said glaring at him backing up against the other door, trying to get away from him.

He grabbed my ankle and pulled me to him. I backed away again, but he repeated his move. He covered my mouth and spoke darkly against my temple quietly, “You are a slave. Used for pleasures, cleaning, and cooking. You belong to Saul. Olivia and I are also slaves. She is going through what you are about to go through. I serve as an assassin. We are also both under the power of Saul.”

“No! I am not a slave!” I screamed on top of my lungs. I bit Nathan’s hand and scooted away from him. He reached out to me, “Do not touch me!”

“Aaliyah, you have to cope with us. You need to learn to obey, or Saul will kill you.” Olivia told me staring out onto the road. I looked out the window and saw that we were going way too fast.

“Slow down!” I hollered in fear of death.

“Damn you’re bossy!” Nathan said once again annoyed.

“I’m not going to be a slave!” I screamed again, “No, I’m not a slave. Not a slave, not a slave.” I whispered to myself trying not to cry. I can’t show defeat. “I’m n-….no.” I sobbed bringing my knees to my chest. I rested my forehead on my bare knee caps and folded my arms, creating a wall between me and the world.

It was silent for awhile. Olivia and Nathan occasionally mumbled a short conversation. Every single one of them had my name in it. I am not a slave. I will not be used for the pleasures of a man. I am not a slave. Shit, I lie to myself to much.

“Aaliyah, we want you t-.”

“Ali.”

“What?” Nathan asked after I interrupted him.

“Ali, my name is Ali.”

“I’m sorry, Ali,” he scooted over to me and held me in a hug, “We want you to know that Olivia and I are not the bad guys. You will be serving them, but we are the same as you. We don’t want this as much as you don’t want it. We will not hurt you. We promise you that.”

I sniffed and peaked out at him. He flashed me a promising smile, but that doesn’t change a damn thing, “Don’t promise me anything. My trust ran out a long time ago.”

“What?” Olivia asked looking at the mirror back at me.

“I am not a slave.” I lied to myself, it is better this way.