the edge of the tape covering my inner arm tattoo caught on my clothes. I hadn’t looked. Hadn’t even peeked. Suddenly, I needed to know. I dropped the dress to the floor and peeled away the tattoo’s opaque cover. A word was revealed, black ink written into my skin in beautifully executed script. CLAIMED. My breath hitched. My heart pounded. Spinning around, I peered back to the mirror and lifted my cami, tearing away the tape over my lower back. WANTED. The next were at the top of my back and then my thigh. OWNED. NEEDED. The word under my breast gave up MINE. My laugh came out as a sob. He’d
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