Cathy was forcing me to accompany her to a tattoo parlour. As she pushed my back, I was absolutely crapping myself, clutching my books hard to my chest. I would never see the light of day if my parents found out I was in this part of town.

"Come on Ali, stop being a baby." She rolls her eyes; I shake my head in distraught. Looking around the roads, and suddenly every passing car looks like my dad's.

"Cathy, I have to go home. If my parents see me here-" She holds up her hands and stops me from speaking, she gives me a chance to breathe. "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Hey, it's me getting the tattoo. Not you, use this as an opportunity to sketch the place? Bring some ideas for your portfolio, you are applying to a University in New York." I sigh, she was right. I could use this for my portfolio which i have been stuck on for seven weeks. And it was due in two months.

"You never told me it was in this part of town."

"Then you would have never come." She chuckles.

"Exactly!" We reach the front of the tattoo parlour.

The name in white fonts read, Cathy pushes the door open enough for the both of us to slip through. I look around, "Cathy, here for my diamond tattoo." As she spoke to the woman at the front desk, my mind drifts to the wall of signatures. I turn my head to a ninety-degree angle as i inspect every drawing and writing.

"Ali! Come on." I snap my head back to Cathy; she waves for me to follow after her and I do. We walk through a tight hallway, so tight that we had to walk behind each other. And through every door is a tattoo going on. The receptionist points to the last door, Cathy pushes the door open. "Ares, right?" Cathy assumed.

I lift my eyes to look at the artist, and once they meet his...it was as if the whole word was pushed behind me. He had eyes that spoke of all that was new in the spring, of a soul that was eternally young. His pale green eyes were the tenderness of budding blossoms, the promise of spring. And they gripped onto mine for a moment, he is stunning.

And oddly familiar. His eyes. I remember his eyes.

His hair was black, and by black, I mean the colour of the night sky. He had wide curls and strong brows that kept the colour of his eyes wonderfully well when nothing could be seen. His lashes were long and reached his cheekbones as he blinks, his nose was prominent, and his lips were large and full. I never stare at guys for this long, and I had to turn away as a crimson flush crept up my face.

"Cathy? Sit down and roll your sleeve." Cathy listens and settles down; I stand in the corner as he gets his equipment ready. Slipping on a pair of latex black gloves, my eyes travel to his tattooed sleeve.

He had tattoos everywhere, all over his neck, arms and heaven maybe under his shirt. I look at his left hand, but it is not Diávolos. He had a butterfly tattoo instead and not the swords Diávolos drew in-between my breasts.

But the way he looked at me.

It seemed so familiar.

"So, how's the hunt for Diávolos?" She asks, staring down at me.

"He was there, last night by the alley in front of my window. He came back after two years Cathy, and he just-he stared at me...as if I were something he wanted..."

"Wanted to kill...how the fuck are you not afraid of him?" Cathy gasped out.

"I was drawing him, and I think he noticed because when i turned to look back...he was no longer there and instead he was in my room."

"Did you drink last night?" Cathy giggles. I groan throwing my sketch book to the side, rushing my fingers through my hair.

"No, I don't drink Cathy. I am being serious, no one takes me seriously. He stood in front of me, he took the paintbrush from my hair, and he drew-"

"Enough, Ali, I was only joking. Diávolos is a myth, not a real person. I think it's time to get over your obsession with him." I look down at Ares, the tattoo artist. He appears unfazed and focused on his work. I sigh and slump back into my chair. Nobody ever believes what I say. There is not a single person. But I remember what I saw on those two nights of my life. I noticed him. I saw him. I felt him.

Diávolos is real.

I am not crazy.

"He's real. I know he is. And I will prove it to you." I take out my sketch book and plug in my earphones as I slip my pencil from behind my ears. And instead of drawing Cathy, like i was supposed to.

"Okay, say that he is real. He killed over thousands of people."

"And if you do your research, they were people who raped, murdered and hurt innocent people." I add in.

"That does not give him the right to kill."

My pencil had a mind of its own and drew the artist. I look up at him every now and then, sketching little things. And making sure my detail is perfect, I drew his side profile. Since that was the view, he wipes the ink from her arm and continues drilling the little knives which contained paint onto her skin.

I drew his eyes on a separate page. Too familiar. I push my dark curls behind my ears, biting onto my bottom lip.

I look up, and his eyes catch mine for a quick second. I look back down onto my sketch, why is he so intense? A few minutes pass by and the sound of drilling stops, I pull out my headphone.

"Wow, that's sick. Ali, look." I stand up from my seat and make my way to her, she had a smiley face tattooed on her wrist with a diamond. I chuckle softly and shake my head; we really did all this for that?

"What about you?" A deep voice ewer from the corner of my ears. I turn my head and face him, "are you here for a tattoo as well?" A boy is speaking to me. A male is actually talking to me.

"Me?"

"Is there anyone else I'm looking at?" He snaps of his gloves and throws them into the bin. I shift on my feet, unable to hold contact for longer.

"She isn't allowed. Anyways, how much Ares?"

"One hundred and fifty." Cathy nods and rummages through her bag, I tap my foot onto the marble flooring.

"Damn it! I forgot my purse in my car, stay here. I'll be right back." She rushes out the room, and my heart is pounding against my chest as I stay silent in the room. I feel him staring at me, why did she leave me? She knows i have social anxiety.

"She better come back, otherwise you'll be paying for it." He speaks, cleaning his area. I don't look at him, I stare at his lower body instead. I cannot do eye contact.

"She will come back; Cathy isn't like that." I whisper, pushing my hair behind my ears as i stare down at my phone.

I glance around the room, and something catches my eyes. A painting of a woman holding her shoulders, covering her breast with her forearms. I move closer towards it, examining it. Her hair falls down her back, a little over her neck. She has a butterfly on her chest. "This is beautiful." I blurt out, I suddenly feel a body beside me. And I look up to see-the man named Ares stare at it.

"Everyone says that, but they don't understand it."

"Each painting has a meaning behind it." He glances down at me, Ares is tall. He stood roughly six 'four, which intimidated my small frame.

"And what do you think the meaning is for this one?" He questions me.

"A butterfly symbolises spiritual rebirth, transformation, change, hope, and life. When you look closely, you can see light scars on her shoulder...which she's trying to cover up." I do not know what got over me but i had the decency to look at Ares. His eyes stare into my soul, the same way as Diávolos.

"You know your art."

"I know you drew this." I shoot out.

"And how's that?" He folds his arms over his chest.

"Because you have the same exact butterfly on the back of your palm." I point out with my pen, his face stays emotionless, but he gives me a small nod of approval. "Do I know you-"

"Here you go Ares. See you next week for my leg tattoo! Come on Ali!" She hands him the cash and drags my hands out of the room. But i take one more look back at Ares, his light eyes close and turns to continue his cleaning.

Cathy took me back home, and the entire time Ares was on my mind. Despite my appearance, I believe it is because he was actually speaking to me, acknowledging me. When people see me with Cathy, they seem to gravitate toward her.

I can see why; Cathy was stunning. Her hair is blonde and short, her eyes are crystal blue, and her skin is fair. Her fashion sense is impeccable, and I sometimes get the impression that she spends time together with me because she feels bad for me. No one has ever looked twice...no one until Ares acknowledged my existence. "What's on your mind?" Cathy asks as she keeps her eyes on the road.

"Nothing." I rub my nose.

"You're a bad liar."

"No, I'm not!" I shake my head, turning to rub my nose once again. Darn it!

"Your rub your nose when you lie, Ali, now speak." She taps her fingers onto the wheel, I sigh and look down at my sketchbook. Doodling on the front of it with my pencil, I cannot do eye contact with anyone. "If it's Diávolos, I don't want to know."

"I don't know, when you left...Ares spoke to me." I whisper gently, Cathy nods for me to continue. "And I guess it felt nice, having someone to talk to me...acknowledge me."

"You have me! And Ares is bad news, you better not have a crush on him...you literally met him today." How is Ares bad news?

"No, I don't have a crush on him. I feel like-I get him...we were talking about his painting on the wall, and I enjoyed it, we had a mutual understanding-" Cathy looks bored from this conversation, so i decide to keep my mouth shut instead. I do not blame her; I have nothing interesting to talk about.

"Ares is not a good guy and he is very dangerous Ali, and you guys are opposites. And he is twenty-three...you're eighteen."

"I'm turning nineteen in three months." I whisper out.

"He is five years older than you, anyways, here we are!" She parks in her driveway; I unbuckle my seatbelt and wish her goodbye as I make my way into my house. I take my keys from my bag and push it through the hole as I twist it.

The door opens and I see my mum cleaning the house, I go to my room straightaway and close my bedroom door behind me.

I drop my bag onto the floor, my sketch book on my desk and stare at the mirror. I am eighteen years old and dressed up like an absolute idiot. A knock on my door breaks me away from the mirror and my mum walks in with a basket of my clothes, "you better be revising young lady." She warns me.

"I am, " no. I am not. I rub my nose.

"I am going out with your father tomorrow, we will be staying at Auntie Laura's house because of the catholic church. Would you like to come?" She offers, I shake my head kindly.

"No, it's okay. I'll come next time." She nods.

"Your skirt looks risen," I look down. "Fix it."

"Sorry."