Alone but United

Chapter 17

The streets were lighting up and nightlife for the city began. Carter wasn’t too intimidated by this, because she used to have to work odd times for her recent jobs and would bet off at some random time for the night. Surprisingly, she preferred nightlife excitement than daytime excitement. It almost felt like she finally didn’t have to put a front on to anyone.

She saw the vast amount of serfs exploring the town tonight. Doing choices for their handlers and masters. It was usually like this every night. There was a curfew for serfs, having to be at their master’s residents from 2am-11am. Not counting during holiday week, days, or during a Kinship ceremony. It then came to her attention that next Monday was the 5 day holiday, Darwin’s day.

Rust at the thought of this made her heart skip a couple of beats. Thoughts raced through her head like, how will she pay for it all and will Tyson listen to her rants of him actually attending. After her mild freakout, she remembered Mathew. She could hardly believe that she was able to not have to worry about such thinking like that anymore. He got full guardianship over both her and Tyson. Being able to get a proper therapist for Tyson and the ability to regain a small portion of her father’s money from their grandparents. 

After years of worrying all the time Carter felt like she needed something to help her stop thinking. To gut out the feeling of the need for people. Before she could mess up and wouldn’t have the time to think about it because of the many responsibilities that she needed to fulfill. She could deal with it when she had the time and wouldn’t have the space to think about her anger and sadness.

She could really feel the emotions from Tristah’s reaction. Carter could have just left it and played it off in many different ways. She was now living the life of a typical upper-class Exeptis, and could have rolled some sort of story on why she wasn’t living with her parent’s anymore. Maybe invite Tristah over to their house and continue their relationship.

Carter felt the wind that the passing cars casted aside. Each push egged her on to many ideas she didn’t want to think about. Her mind placed images of walking in front of a car. The feeling that she might feel after the impact. The blood washing over the streets of this disgusting city.

“But I just had to listen to f*****g Karmen’s advice.” she said fiercely.

Carter sorta surprised herself. She didn’t usually swear, but she was feeling all this anger in her cheat building up. She could feel better for a moment then back to anger.

Carter left the main streets to walk through one of the many back-alley street shops. There were many tent stands, ranging from food to stolen items sold at a lower price or traded. Many customers would conceit of Ratts and Serfs.

She had been through many of these back-alley street shops before. Her mother’s medicine was so expensive that she had to often shop for it here, and even then try to come to a compromise with shopkeepers. She also remembers a time where she would bring Tyson to try and keep him out of trouble, but this would cease to work after he spent a night at one of his Kat friends house. How they treated their serfs, butlers, and maids seemed to stop wanting to be a part of anything that would bring him closer to Kat’s society and a part of deep, statistical Rat culture.

Carter came across a stand that had many signs around it. Looking for something to distract her from her anger and other emotions she approached the stand. The sign read ‘Tat Parlor’. The signs showed many pieces of tattoo art, each banister dedicated to a different artist.

Tattoos were very much a part of the city's culture. No matter if you were a Kat, Ratt, Exeptis, or even a Serf. Each tattoo tells a story. Even the same tattoo on two different people can have two different stories. Carter looked along to the desk, separating the walkway to the open studio. There were signs-in sheets, business cards, and a stack of little cards that had the full Tattoo Person’s act printed on it.

Carter took one and read it. She remembered from school alone, that a person over 10 can decide to have a tattoo, but no tattoos with words till 20. Along with the right to have a sanitized environment and tools, and the documentation that the parlor has to fill out to give to the government for the new tattoo. The tattoo is now a part of you, a way to recognize you, like your hair or eye color. But what surprised Carter was the inability to tattoo hate speeches, hateful or offensive words or images. Not that she would want too, but this seemed a little crazy. What could be seen as offensive words or images to the government could be a part of someone’s culture. 

“Can I help you little lady?” a deep unfamiliar voice rang out.

Carter looked at the figure and was met with a giant man. He had a darker complexion, small man bun with an undercut, and tattoos all over his body.

“No, I was just wondering what this booth was about.”

Another man, smaller, walked up from behind the bigger one,“Don’t let Knuckles here scare you off,” He raps one arm around Carter’s shoulder,“What were you thinking on getting, young lady?”

Carter knew she wasn’t in the right mindset to be walking home alone. She really wanted, so badly, to hurt herself. The man led Carter over to one of the many colleges of work, explaining each artists’ style and technique. His voice went mute to her ears and all she could hear was the griseous sounds of slashing and clanging of something else. Carter found herself staring at the Butcher/BBQ tent just down from her. The butcher took big knives and harshly split the meat, then a smaller one to take the fat off.

She dragged her arm up, closer to her face. Using her mind to imagine the red liquids racing down her forearm. Purchasing the release of out the numbing from her head.

“Miss?”

Carter shot a look up at the shorter man, as if she had gotten caught stealing something.

“Our artists even tattoo custom designs from our customers. Did you have something in mind like that?”

Carter held her arm close and ran her thumb over her wrist, gently grazing it. She really wanted to talk to someone, but Mathew was staying late tonight. She couldn’t trust another with her troubles after what happened with Tristah.

“I don’t care. Anything works.”

The short man’s expression changed a bit. From his 1 million dollar smile to sudden confusion, then back to a smile,“We can do that, but would you like to pick an artist? Sense we aren’t in our usual building, the artist can pick their pay. This accounts for, instead of money, they will accept trading. Although this transaction does rescore another paper you must sign so that it is legally a fair trade for both parties.”

Carter looked at the colleges again, nothing really spoke to her. When in her History/Art Tattoo class that all kids take at 5th grade. A class that teaches you the understanding of tattoos in our society, including the Kats and Ratts symbols. There was an artist that had a tribal art style, another that had a college that consisted mostly of environments.

“I only have money.” Carter told them.

Handing Carter a clipboard, the short man started to walk around the corner,“You can start filling that out and I’ll look around for a few artists for you.”