The tattoo had always been there behind Robin’s ear, ever since she could remember. Apparently, it had been put there by her parents whom Robin had never met. She supposed that society tends to revoke parental rights from people who tattoo their infant daughter. Nobody had ever told her differently so she tended to paint her birth parents as the villains and moved on with her life.
The tattoo was of a key and a crudely drawn key and she covered it up as best she could out of embarassment. Therefore she had always grown her hair out long and she had always worn it down. She ignored it and forgot about it and locked it away in the same mental vault that she had shoved her birth parents.
Her adopted parents were caring and understanding and she got along with them fine. This continued even through her teenage years when she had added a single purple streak to her dark brown hair while she devolved into an angsty mess. During those years she had also been forced to wear glasses but now she couldn’t imagine her face without them now. Eventually she traded her normal glasses for ones that had a slight purple tint which soon became her trademark. She slowly grew up and formed into a person just like all the ordinary people did. An life interesting to her and those closest to her but most likely boring to everybody else.
She had learned to play the violin in high school which won her a scholarship to a prestigious university. That all changed when the blackouts began during freshman year. It was hard to get through a symphony when she was worried another blackout might swallow her mind whole. So she dropped out and they revoked her scholarship. She couldn’t really blame them for it. She had promised to play and then didn’t follow through. She would have loved to make beautiful music but now she was a waitress in a rundown bar but she made it work. She rarely had blackouts during her shifts and the people were alright to her.
However, the blackouts continued and nobody could ever explain where they were coming from. She would be doing one thing and when she came to she would often be in exactly the same place. They didn’t last long at first, a few minutes here and there, later they would stretch on for hours. It wasn’t until the tattoos started to appear that she figured out she was being productive during her blackouts. After she turned fifteen, she would sometimes wake up from her blackouts with a new tattoo. After a year, she was starting to get alarmed by how much skin they had started to take up.
The tattoos had raised several questions. If she blacked out and got tattoos, then she must have asked for them. However, it was not Robin who had asked for them because she would remember. So who asked for the tattoos? Who was she sharing space with? She was no closer to answering those questions today then she had been when the first tattoo showed up. She felt like she was losing her mind but she roughly shoved all of those thoughts into the vault as well. She thought the vault of her mind must be a fairly scary place by now. If only she could decipher the tattoos the other Robin had placed on their skin.
These are the thoughts that unexpectedly swam to the surface of her thoughts as she started her Saturday shift. She tied her apron on in a daze and then tied a bandana over her hair and walked the tables. She almost didn’t notice the guy in the third booth, sitting all by himself with his coat still on. It was annoying when single customers wanted a booth, taking up all the space from potential groups. The guy was still dripping from the rain as well which meant Robin would have to grab a mop after he left.
Impatient, Robin leaned on the table. “What can I get you, stranger?”
The guy looked up at her, one eye brown and the other blue. He looked confused for the longest pause and then his mouth turned up into a grin. “I guess you wouldn’t remember me. No matter. I come for the mark of the hound.” He replied.