34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
T hrax
The buzz of the tattoo machine fills my room in the hospital. It’s a constant hum that vibrates through my body. Clenching my jaw, I force myself to relax, focusing on the pulsing beat of the techno music Skye chose for me.
The artist, Elodie, agreed to come to the hospital. I know we offered to pay her extra, but it was still nice of her to agree. Varro and Laura said she wouldn’t have to sign the secrecy paperwork if we convinced her I’m simply a patient here.
She’s a petite woman with crimson hair and more metal in her face than I’ve ever seen on anyone, yet she works diligently on my back.
“You doing okay, big guy?” she asks, pausing to wipe away blood and excess ink.
Nodding, I manage a tight smile. “I’m fine.”
But the truth is, every touch of the needle sends me spiraling back in time. Memories of cruel hands and sharp blades threaten to overwhelm me. The scent of the liquid she wipes me with, so similar to the pungent herbs used to clean wounds in the ludus , makes my stomach churn .
Skye’s hand tightens around mine, anchoring me to the present. “Hey,” she says softly, “tell me again about the first time you heard techno music.”
Grateful for the distraction, I launch into my story. “It was in the hospital cafeteria, remember? That day when the kitchen staff was playing music while they worked. The beat was like nothing I’d ever heard before.”
As I speak, the tension in my body eases. Skye nods encouragingly, her thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. “And what did you think when I told you it was all made with computers?”
A chuckle escapes me, momentarily breaking the spell of discomfort. “I thought you were joking. How could such complicated rhythms come from those metal boxes?”
Elodie pipes up, her tone curious. “Wait, you’d never heard techno before? Where are you from, man? What language are you speaking that’s being translated through your phone?”
My heart races, but Skye jumps in smoothly. “Thrax grew up in an isolated religious community in Italy where they spoke Latin,” she explains. “They didn’t allow any modern music or technology. He’s still adjusting to life outside.”
“Whoa,” Elodie breathes, her eyes wide. “That must be wild, experiencing all this for the first time. No offense, but I can’t imagine living like that. I mean, no smartphone? Nope, not for me.”
Resisting the urge to shrug, I offer a wry smile. “It’s all I knew. But I’m grateful to be learning about the world now.”
Skye squeezes my hand, silent praise for how I’m handling the conversation. “You should see him when he hears a new genre,” she says, her voice warm with affection. “It’s like watching a kid at Christmas.”
Elodie laughs, the sound bright and genuine. “Well, if you ever want a guide to the local music scene, let me know. I play bass in a band, and we know all the best underground spots. ”
The offer, though kind, sends a spike of anxiety through me. The thought of venturing into the world beyond the hospital is both thrilling and terrifying. “Perhaps someday,” I say without committing. “For now, I’m still adjusting to… everything.”
“No pressure,” Elodie assures me, returning her focus to the tattoo. “So, tell me about this design. Fortuna, right? You into Roman mythology?”
Another moment of panic, quickly soothed by Skye’s steadying presence. “I’ve always been fascinated by ancient cultures,” I explain carefully. “The idea of fate, of fortune guiding our lives—I connect deeply with it.”
“I can see that,” Elodie nods, her tone thoughtful. “Especially coming from such a restrictive background. Must feel like fate brought you here, huh?”
The observation hits closer to home than she could possibly know. “Something like that,” I murmur.
As Elodie works, Skye keeps up a steady stream of conversation, deftly steering topics away from anything too personal. We chat about her work on translation software, about the latest movies she’s introducing me to, about the simple pleasures of modern life I’m discovering.
Hours pass, marked by the ebb and flow of conversation and the constant hum—and pain—of the tattoo machine. By the time Elodie says our session is over, I’m exhausted but excited.
“Alright. The outline is complete. Ready to take a look?” She sets down the tattoo gun, takes a few pictures of my back, then shows me her phone. “What do you think?”
My breath catches in my throat. The outline of Fortuna is taking shape across my back, her blindfolded face serene amidst the chaos of her wheel. Even in this early stage, I can see how the design incorporates my scars, transforming them into something… beautiful.
“It’s… incredible,” I breathe, unable to tear my gaze aw ay from the screen.
Skye beams, her pride evident. “It’s amazing, Elodie. You’ve really captured the essence of what we talked about. The flowing robes, the wheel. And the placement of the cornucopia, which allows the spilling fruit to cover these scars here. Perfect.”
Elodie grins, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Thanks! I’m excited to add the color next time. The saturated color is going to make this piece really pop.”
Elodie covers my back in a thin see-through bandage that adheres to my skin. As Skye helps me to my feet, I crane my neck to catch another glimpse of my back in the mirror. The man staring back at me is familiar, yet somehow new. The scars are still there, but they no longer define me. Instead, they’re the foundation for something remarkable, something of my own choosing.
“So,” Skye says, her voice teasing as she hands me a shirt, “how does it feel to be a tattooed man?”
Grinning, I pull her close, mindful of my tender back. “Like I’m finally writing my own story,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Elodie busies herself with cleaning up, giving us a moment of privacy. “You two are cute,” she comments, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “How long have you been together?”
“Not long,” Skye admits, a blush coloring her cheeks. “But it feels like we’ve known each other forever.”
The truth of her words strikes me. In the short time since I awoke in this new world, Skye has become my anchor, my guide, and my biggest supporter. What would my life have been like back in Rome if I’d had someone believe in me like this? With Skye at my back, I feel as though I can accomplish anything.
“Well, I’m happy for you,” Elodie says sincerely. “Love like that doesn’t come around often.”
Her use of the word “love” sends a jolt through me. Is that what this is? This overwhelming feeling, this connection that defies time and logic ?
As we leave my room to walk Elodie to the exit, I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. This is just the beginning—of my transformation, of our story together, of the life that stretches out before us. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I know I can face them with Skye by my side and the strength of Fortuna at my back.
“You okay?” Skye asks softly as we make our way back to my room. “I know that was a lot, both physically and emotionally.”
Nodding, I pull her closer. “I’m okay, thanks to you.” I give her a thumbs up, trying to lighten the mood, but she’s too smart to let me distract her.
“Tell me, Thrax. You’re really doing okay?”
“The way you handled Elodie’s questions kept me from falling into the past… I don’t know how I would have done this without you. I’m good.”
She looks up at me, her eyes full of what can only be defined as affection. “You don’t have to do any of this alone, Thrax. I’m here.”
As we reach my door, I pause, suddenly reluctant to let her go. “Stay with me tonight?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just to sleep. I… I don’t want to be alone.”
Skye’s smile is soft, understanding. “Of course. Let’s go to my room, since I already have a double bed.”
As we settle into bed, careful of my tender back, I pull her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. The steady rhythm of her breathing is more soothing than any lullaby. I’ve never thought of myself as a selfish man before, but I am. I’m not so upset that I need company tonight. It’s just that I wanted Skye here because I like having her nearby.
“Skye?” I murmur, sleep already tugging at the edges of my mind.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For everything. ”
She shifts, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw. “Always,” she whispers.
As I drift off to sleep, Fortuna’s serene face floats in my mind, no longer a distant goddess but a symbol of the future I’m forging. A future that, against all odds, includes the remarkable woman in my arms.