Erasing Mrs. Moretti
My resolve was steel.
Twenty minutes later, I was lying on a table in a private tattoo parlor.
The sharp zap of the laser removal machine was a counterpoint to the dull ache in my chest as the eagle crest of the Moretti family slowly vanished from my collarbone. The pain was excruciating, like a hot poker searing my skin over and over.
But I clenched my jaw and didn't make a sound.
I just felt the five years of memories, my love for Dante, being burned away, just like the ink.