Narcissist Survivor Tattoo Novels & Stories

What she said was still ringing in my head. He had a tattoo of a crest on his back and another of three spades on the skin at his lower back directly above his left butt cheek. I was never into bad boys. I didn't like their vibe or the energy around them. I could live with a bike or a small tattoo but not the ones Jane described or the piercing in his left nipple. I mean, who in their right mind pierces their nipple? I couldn't fathom how someone as sweet, good, and adorable as Nancy could have a grandkid like that.

All I knew was that she looked brilliant. "The tattoo is a symbol of the people under north's successful conquest." Adler covered his wrist again and began pacing the length of his cell. He hesitated, clearly weighing how much he would tell today and think of how long he could drag this out. I noticed the tattoo immediately—the same symbol burned into memory from the lab. My blood ran cold. "I don't see why you've waited this long to ask." "I didn't want to kill you," Nyx said. That stopped him.

Before bed, he strips down to his boxers and slips beneath my sheets without hesitation. Not because we’re lovers. Not because we’re teammates. Because we’re both. And because sleep doesn’t come easy when your heart’s still on high alert. I lay against his chest, fingers drawing circles over one of his tattoos. The one that says: not made for mercy. “I still don’t know what this one means,” I whisper. He shifts. “It’s for the people who thought I wouldn’t survive.” “And now?” “Now I keep it as a reminder.” “That they were wrong?”

There is no point in doing anything right now so I keep quiet. The whole place is filled with scary-looking tattoed dudes. Bored, I started noticing the scary guy's tattoos. It's a skull, a red skull with wings and a cross. The tattoo is bright and dull at the same time. The cross it clutches seems more like a trophy than a symbol of hope, stained with a history whispered only in faded scars. Bright and dull, a paradox mirroring the struggle between survival and surrender. Art sure is fascinating. Someone walked up to him just then. He looks me up and down, "who is this, chick."

The natural waist dropped into a sheer fabric with flowers stitched into it. The scars have relaxed and really created a pretty chain-link pattern. Although our wolves really worked on healing me, they are just now calming down and looking like regular scars. I have grown accustom to them to the point that I want to get them tattooed. As a symbol of my strength and determination to not let evil win. Soft music was playing as I paced around this tent. The only thing I knew about this event was the smell of lilacs. “Ready?” Colt lifted the side and stepped in.

I nodded. "It was me.. All along.. Ending every threat that pushed me away from everything.. It was time to make them know that I am not the sweet kind princess who they can threat with.. I am the threat.. I am the death.. " My eyes definitely held no remorse.. I know my thoughts aren't morally right but when it's a topic to survive, it's the best answer.. "When did you get that tattoo? " He asked.. A cold smile lingered on my face.. "After I moved to Los Angeles.. I can't move forward if I look back and see these scars.. So I painted myself.. Who I can be if I damn want to.. And every rose representing the years I survived.. 8 Rose's, 8 years.. "

Dorcas protested. "For the first time after twelve years, yes,"she said, unbuttoning her shirt. She took it off and rose to her feet, giving Dorcas a clear view of the tattoo. "This is his handwriting on my arm. He did this to me himself. Do you see? This is the combination of our names, LillyNath." "Do I seem as if I care? I don't fucking care about it. I love Nath,"Dorcas insisted. " And I love him too. Listen very good, Dorc. I will never give him up. Not for you, not for any other person,"Lillian warned in ire.

The water hits my back at just the right temperature and I move my hand over my back but then I move my hand to my wrist. I look at it with a sad smile on my face when I see the tattoo I'd gotten. It is an infinity tatoo , in the infinity are two butterflies on either side each one representing the each family member I lost . And the only one I had well that was until my uncle and aunt lived with me in ghe mansion and treated me like their own.

“No.” I said firmly. “I must insist. Yo-” the doctor stepped forward “You touch me with that needle and I won’t be the only one with a concussion.” I threatened. “I saw your tattoo. You can’t be afraid of needles.” Janine said. Damn, I had a massive tattoo of my wolf on my back. She was pure white, which is a symbol of royalty. “What is your tattoo of?” Axel asked.

Nate's hold on my hand tightens into a grip. Gosh, Killer is so massive. The side of his forehead is plastered with a bandage dotted with a large red stain, which is obviously blood. His upper lip is split, the bruise now swollen with a purple colouration. A long straight scar runs from the left side of his mouth up towards his earlobe. He is shirtless, his black tattoos covering every inch of the skin of his neck and chest and shoulders and abdomen. His tattoos make me wonder why Nate doesn't have even one. I thought it is like a formal tradition for all fighters to have at least two or more tattoos on their bodies. But damn, this guy's tattoos are like legions of dark ink crawling all over