Drawn Within
Every time she inked a new tattoo, it dug its way deeper, like it was tunneling right into me. At first, it was just odd, a strange tickle, but then it really started to yank on me. Each fresh design tugged at my arms and legs, pulling me around like I wasn't my own boss anymore.
She’d giggle every time she dipped her needle, chirping, "Just a little more…" Her voice, too cheery, too bright, started echoing in my head. The tattoos were messing with me, jerking me around, making me move in ways that felt all wrong.
With each new dab of ink, I felt myself slipping, my thoughts scattering like lost whispers. I was morphing into her puppet, each twitch and shudder choreographed by the creeping ink, spinning me into a dizzy, lonely madness…
