I didn't notice it was there until I was half way dressed, my hair still damp from my shower and my eyes halfway open. I was pulling up my pants when I realized its irregular shape was there.
I stopped moving in the mirror and stared wide eyed at it. How it was there on my warm skin diagonal from my belly button. How its dark color stood out against my pale untainted skin. How I couldn't remember when I got it. It stood out like a piece of imperfection stuck to the shattered pieces that were once perfection.
After staring at it for a while, the black lines imprinted on my skin, it started to take shape.
A king's crown, done in a iron gothic design. The gems on the points of the crown were tinted a slight faded red. The ink looked worn like it had been sitting in that spot for my whole life, or before I noticed it now. A tattoo.
A tattoo sat there breaking the perfection of my snowy white skin. And all I could think about was one person. One person who I knew that had more tattoos that I could ever count. That one person was Jet.