#decayedcreeper

~*: Key to happiness is just a dreamcatcher :*~

My skin was on fire with the touch of the needles. My face reddened with each shading dipped edge. My body was so aware of his presence. I felt the stare. Awareness of me being near. I was not in his seat. I was in another's. It felt like cheating... But alas this was a dream.

There's no way I was this close to

@ShadesOfInkk without being on top of him. The color was coming together and ripping into my skin with vengeance. The pain was a pleasure and I felt every pass of the ink. I was in love with more than the feeling of this moment. It was him.

I'd been wanting to be near. To feel to be. But my life and his hadn't actually passed through. I wanted to reach out, and I did but I had no idea if he would take my hand or not. Could our subconscious minds be seeking out from the void to meet one another?

Tassa: I spent a day and half in the center. She could only hold me for seventy-two hours without my permission, unlike before when I had endangered my own self. I played the part. I lost track of time. I went to the group session and I was angry.

I hated them for keeping me from him.

She was keeping me from him.

He could be gone. On a plane… or gone forever!

Disappeared. What if something happened to him and I was in here.

The worn magazine lay beside the bed as if I had never left it. It was the first inked mag I’d ever read. The first article. It drew my thoughts back into the pit of despair. Is that what she wanted? Me to spiral back out of control and have the urge to end it all again.

What if I missed my shot and it was the only one I would have gotten?

What if… my mind had played many scenarios in my head.

Her mistake, but my gain was that she didn’t take my phone away.

Sucker!  I could follow their posting of fresh ink online.

“Tassa,” Patricia said louder. This means she had been talking to me and I was zoning out. “Phones are a privilege…”

I hold a finger up and shake my head. “Um, no, don’t lie… or white lies me. My property and I didn’t sign up for this. So the emersion therapy was not what I asked for. I am fine. Great even.”

She seemed to let that one go… for now, and move on to someone else. I was being defiant and angry.

I did all the things she had advised me to do. I did move my stuff back into Preston’s Penthouse without him knowing until he peeked into the room and saw my plastered walls.

“So your back then?” He had replied… after all he hadn’t seen the mess I’d made of the house he had bought me to live in. Across town. In the suburbs where all the yoga pants and ponytails go to die. I was in hell. I hated it there. No city hustle and bustle. It was quiet and alone.

I always made it back for my group sessions so Patricia didn’t need to know that I was following Shace…. Mmmm just thinking his name on my lips was like cherries and cream sliding down my throat. I moaned softly at the thought of tasting him. I wasn’t really at the penthouse much anyway, I was following him on a plane, train, car, trolly…  following the love of my life, he just didn’t know it yet.

“Let’s talk about your brother?” Patricia probed again, the group had left and I just shook my head. I didn’t want to play this game. Other than the first omission of the issues we endured before Preston had taken me away… I wouldn’t talk about it again. No.

“Pass…” I muttered as I tied the strings together on day two of a friendship bracelet I was making for the colored-haired one at the shop. Maybe if I made her a present she’d stop mean mugging me every time she saw me standing outside the shop. I almost made it inside once… but I chickened out walked up to the door she held it open and I walked away.

NutterButter.

Peanut butter brittle pants.

Or maybe it was her face and she’d invite me for a smoke, or drinks… I could have girlfriends who didn’t want my man.

“Natasha…” she started and I gasped at her use of my full name now… that we knew one another. “Tassa, would you like to talk about Shace?” I didn’t like how she said his name as if he wasn’t real.

“No,” I replied not with her, not with anyone.

No one would understand what he was to me.

How his art makes my heart pound out of my chest.

How every gift I leave I leave a bit of myself with him.

That I stole his hoodie to be closer to him because the one time I did have the chance. Up close and personal with him, I froze. I wasn’t paying attention. I had just taken the dark material from the stool at the back alley of the shop.  I just walked up and picked it up. The colored-haired girl had just come out the exit with a joint or vape pen in her fingers. I couldn’t remember or wanted to because her face turned sour and I spun on my heel to leave. I walked right into his chest. A small squeal had left my mouth… as I leaned into him, tiny fingers reaching out to steady myself.

Ya, that… ha. Stupidly I sniffed him, it was instinctual. He smelled of oil, disinfectant, and colors. His chest vibrated with words spoken but they were lost on me as he moved past me and into the door she had just come out of. I just stood there dreamy-eyed. Hoodie tucked up under my arms as if I hadn’t just stolen it from him.

What if that had been my only chance and now… well, I sucked at life.

Miss color may have said something to me but I didn’t hear it, I just sped walked away.

Patricia would pull me back into the discussion or try to when my mind would flutter away. she just watched me for the rest of the session. In the end, she spoke about releasing me. Only if she was sure I wasn’t a danger to me or… Shace.

“Do not contact him!” I demanded… and she seemed shocked I would even say that.

“Natasha,” she began and I squished my face up and looked away. “Tassa, what would I say? You have an admirer and she may try to contact you? She is a danger to those around her, get a restraining order?” Her questions continued, she was protecting me. I didn’t like it. Her sarcasm was dropped in buckets of shit show that was me. I dreamily held my chin in my palm as I looked out the window. I pulled my hoodie over my mouth with a sigh. I made all the promises needed. I would not follow him around. I would not go to the shop. I would not leave gifts illegal or otherwise, for someone, I did not know.

I lied.

I’ll be a good girl. I rolled my eyes, took the new prescription, and was released into… yep, Preston’s care. She would tell him everything. My diagnosis, BPD, Manic bipolar, and a touch of psychosis. My medications. My… failures.

I was spiraling down the pit as she allowed me some common room time. I sat with my legs under me as I finished the friendship bracelet that I’d leave for the colored-haired one. As I wove the colors together my eyes went wide as I found myself alone in the room, all except, Preston who was leaning against the door frame. My face was red hot, with anger and shame.

I lied so… she did in return. Well played! His lean frame was leaned against the doorway. “What trouble have you gotten into now?” I looked at the backstabbing Patricia, my therapist with wild rage in my eyes she had mirth in them dancing at his playful tone.

“Seriously?” I demanded as I stared at him. He looked almost amused but the air was concerning.

Patricia smiled, I fucking hated her right now, as they got closer to the couch I sat on and it was like a telly intervention when they both sat in the chairs opposite each other my feet kicked up on the coffee table as I tried to hide. Preston was rubbing his face with a heavy hand. His ink dark shadows of himself. I wasn’t regulating my emotions an outburst was building as I continued to watch this unfold. Fight or flight. I was panting. I tried to calm.

“I am sorry!” I screamed. “I’m so fucked up… Why did she do this to us?” I blurted out. This was part of my BPD emotions that didn’t stay in place. Outbursts were normal. I screamed pulling at my hair. Patricia just stopped talking for a moment. Let me have my moment and get back to business. Telling Preston that much of my quirks were undiagnosed issues.

I would be getting an earful from him having to be a part of the system over me, again. I’d been out of the system for many years now, and when I had turned eighteen we had hit the bottle hard because DHS, CPS, and all the other acronym services couldn’t threaten to take me away from Preston if he didn’t shape up.  

“As I told you over the phone I am concerned with her obsession…” I tuned the rest out as I dropped my boots to the carpet and looked at Preston. He was staring at me, not with anger… and I was surprised. Mother had fucked us up… we had different fathers and I never knew mine. He did know his… and he was a piece of work that took mothers’ money and took other things that he didn’t own. I rubbed my face and tried to scrub the thoughts. The memories away. Not here. Not with him… NO!  My father could have been… Her pimp, her dealer… the list went on who it could have been. As I mouthed ‘I’m sorry it was as if he was thinking the same thing. He was hard on me but I knew why. He wanted me to better myself. Do something more. Don’t fall down the rabbit hole that our skank of a mother had.

I was falling Alice style and following the rabbit… and he was divine.

∆Trigger warning∆

Video Inspirations

Tassa: Mutilation was a common thing. It was something that happened on occasion. Blades to skin. Nails dug deep. The need to hurt oneself. The need to feel something other than nothing. The agony of muted sounds, actions, and life… The blood drips were a painting of splatters along with the tile.

My brother had thought rehab was where I’d gone, or led to believe by what I kept telling him. Honestly, he wouldn’t care otherwise. He may have gotten a call. He may have just ignored the problem… once upon a time, I was a loving sister. Once upon a time, I wasn’t such a burden. My eyes dripped as the blood had.

My hair was a stringy mess as I sat in a circle, dull and confused. “Welcome Natasha…” The leader of the circle had leaned forward as my vision seemed to clear the fog. What pills did they possibly have me on? This hazy ride felt good. I think I had waved. Pulling my sleeves down over my fingers as I tried to laugh all of this off.

It was nothing.

The blood was nothing.

Marks up and down my thighs, arms, and wrists… my anger in my skin written in red welts that were muscle deep. I had NO want to stay. This wasn’t the ride I wanted to stay on. I didn’t pay for this ticket, that bitch who birthed me did. She should be paying for this… my anger raged in each swipe. In each line.  

“Pretty sure this isn’t where I’m supposed to be…” I tried to say, mentally maybe…drool was definitely rolling down my chin. Good drugs.

“This will be disorienting as you come down…"

Down. I never wanted to come down ever.

“Preston?” They had calIed me by my last name and I rolled my face away as they tried to gain my attention. Gross. Not my name.

“Thats not my name…” I refused to even try to meet their eyes. Any of them. This group circle they tried to make me be a part of. One by one had gone. Our last name was our go-to for them. I refused as thats what Bubba was. He didn’t go by his first name. Not since he had made a name for himself.

Not since… no. Tears poured out of me. I was drowning… falling away.

Preston was my protector for so many years. The eyes he uses on me now are that of failure.

His failure… not mine.

I knew he was always putting all of this on himself even though he wouldn’t let anyone know. Or let his bravado down. He had made himself this far with a tiny child to care for. He was already on the streets when I had come along. We didn’t come from money but now that we had it… I was spoiled. I had been given everything.

“Are you with us today, Natasha?” The leader asked, her followers all told their stories as I sat there trying to keep my mouth shut. I tried to not think about Preston, or allow them to know about him. I tried to keep everything inside. The followers were made up of 4 chicks and 3 dudes all with varying varied of problems. I tried not to learn their names.

I tried a lot of things in my time. I found that none of them worked really. I had cried in group therapy. I told that bit-Patricia everything and her followers. I closed my eyes when I spoke of the horrors before Preston took me away. To the streets. To his care. I cried, sobbed, and I could fake a smile like no other. My life was usually a jump from one trip to the next from such a young age.

—

My eyes followed him as he entered the shop. I wanted to go inside and introduce myself. To tell him that his artwork had gotten me through it. Or that he was the reason I got through all the therapy bullshit. I followed his rise to fame. As it were in the ink world anyway. As the other… started with a V… the name had faded from view to the public.

He wasn’t as prominent in the scene anymore.

Or maybe just not as… publicized?

Or maybe I had truly no interest in that one so I didn’t see his name in the headlines anymore. Preston had called me crazy and maybe I was with his articles and artwork lining my wall. I wasn’t crazy…

I traded some addictions for a new one for him.

He didn’t keep many women close. So I was bidding my time. For maybe him to grow, maybe for my sobriety and therapy to stick. Or maybe for all of it combined. I had jealousy moments of nutterbutter wanting to bash faces of women in the shop. To marr their pretty faces. I breathe slow, no… that wouldn’t garner my place. Or even a moment beside him. Or maybe under him… over him, hell I’d even kneel for him.

Breathe. I knew the ones at the shop didn’t appease him, because he didn’t linger long. He acted friendly… or so it would seem. I was a watcher, creeper, his personal one-woman fan club. I was after the stalker that followed his movements around the country, yeeeeeeeah I was a bit nutterbutty. I kept some of it under control tho. Trial and error. No one has lost their swishy pony tails or their eye balls yet.

Yet!

I left him fan mail at the shop for him, but I think those bitties were throwing it away.

A large pan of shroomies for him to play with…

A book of drawings just for his eyes… it even had his name etched on it.

I even left a disc with all the songs that made me think of him.

https://twitter.com/decayedcreeper/status/1474784912527880199?s=21

My mind was only on him.

“I stole a sweater. I sleep with it every night when it’s cold and I can smell him. It’s almost as if I can feel his touch.” I admitted to my group and my therapist just shook her head. She was no longer just the leader, she had a name but I wasn’t using it right now. Not with her concerning eyes at me. She was thinking of committing me again. I waved my hand at her… “I made an appointment on his books, hopefully anyway cause ya know artists don’t sit still long. 2022. I can wait that long for him to finally meet me!” I confessed with glee. My eyes wide and laughter following my admissions.

I’d made an appointment to be on his books but he was so sought after that it was booked so far in advance that it would be… mid to late 2022 before I truly met him. Met his art. To have his eyes on me. The prick in my arm made me scream, kick as I was being pulled away.

Dammit.

And, I didn’t even hurt myself this time. Or anyone else. Just a small case of stalking!

Shace:  -I knew she was lying. Even knowing that fact, I knew I couldn’t stop @SavageInkVaughn even if I wanted to. She was so headstrong. I dropped my head into open palms, scrubbing hard over stressed features. So dazed and confused. 

Something about Vaughn’s tone wasn’t right. And that shit hit me deep. 

I wasn’t exactly thrilled to cut this convention tour short but we’d won all we could. With @Surreal_Ink taking off to his hometown to handle business there wouldn’t be much winnings to bring in.

I’d booked a flight and started the trek back to Texas. 

The plane cuts through the midnight sky while my mind wanders. 

I shift forward in my seat, fingers pressed into furrowed brow.

I can’t lose my head. No. I can’t slow down. I needed to keep rising in life. 

The expression on my face must have been noticed by the attendant because she slyly slid a drink over the table tray. Something dark and stiff. The throat burn and instant mind numbing was more than welcomed. 

Nothing in this life was free and I had to keep on making stacks. 

Under pressure I knew I wouldn’t fold.

The shop in Longview had bookings booked solid for the next year going into next. In the end I knew we’d be golden.

I was lost deep in an ocean of thoughts the entirety of the flight. 

It was over before I knew it and we landed and I made an almost on autopilot walk to the luggage carousel and bag claim. 

I tuned out the thoughts that were barraging me, from Vane to Vaughn and trying to organize in my head a plan while making my way back to my place. 

Sleep was hard to find yet jet lag did all it could to keep me under for longer than I planned. 

Calloused palms scrub over my weary features. All this traveling the past few months had drained me. 

That and the touring before the conventions. 

Now that I was home I had more business to handle with the band and tat shop. 

Vaughn had checked in. She was still on the road. 

Vane avoided my calls and messages and that shit was weighing heavy on me. I left voice message after text message. His mailbox would be full soon and then what?-

“Alright, already, Vane. Quit fuckin around and give me a call back.” 

-I knew he needed time, but this fucker was going to end up giving me an ulcer. 

I groaned out, trying to change my mindset and focus back on the business.

I tried not to let it bring me down. Not needing to forget the shop responsibilities. Runa had been helping where she could but I couldn’t neglect shit for too long. 

Days blurred. Worry mounting. The only thing keeping me from teetering off the ledge was an unexpected visitor. There was something tucked deep in that gaze. 

She floated in and out the shop doors trying to blend with the normal clients and crowd, doing her best to not draw too much attention. 

‘Come a little closer.’

I couldn’t help that from slipping free. She has sticky little fingers, that one. Her attempt at being sly, snagging my favorite black hoodie. There wasn’t much that got by me. 

Time flies by. And by. I found I was looking forward to her visits. Some calm came over me when she was near. 

Her little packages were left in my office. I swear Runa and Vaughn were secretly loving every moment of this. 

Some days scattered by, no sight of @DecayedCreeper. Those were dark days with my fuse short. 

Runa noticed the change in me. She’d found me passed out on the worn couch sitting in the back end of my office again. Empty beer bottles scattered along the desk’s flat top with piles of paperwork and unopened mail littered on every spare square of space. 

I had just been dreaming of running into the mysterious stranger again. She was always traipsing through my mind. Little sneak that she was. After she’d left the tray of shrooms that was what I’d had dubbed her.

‘Where is she?’

Swaying on my feet, still heavily intoxicated from the night before. My attempt to stand upright was only making the room spin.  Lids lowered to try and steady myself. 

I’m acting like everything is okay but shit wasn’t okay. I’m barely keeping from losing it wondering where the fuck Vane disappeared to.- 

“Why are you being such a loser, Shades? Just talk to the girl already.” 

-Runa’s voice grated as it breaks the small gap of silence that makes me start and fly my lids open. The room had finally stopped it’s tilt.-

“I’m not up for discussing anything right now, Runa. Leave it be.” 

-I managed out. Vision was blurry. Having trouble focusing. The bright office lights weren’t helping any. I blinked quickly trying to focus on Runa’s blurred silhouette. She continued to yak and press on. 

I folded back onto the couch until I was right again. 

I really didn’t want to open up about @DecayedCreeper and her recent trips to the shop. 

The others had taken notice. 

I had heavier things to worry on. 

Besides, did I even want that? To end this game we seemed to have going on? 

Fuck. Where is my mind? Somewhere out there with @DecayedCreeper, that’s where.