Book Junkiez

But then, one morning, the tattoos appeared after he had a vivid nightmare of a swirling  spiderweb that seemed to move and change as he tried to escape. He had awoken with a start, his  heart racing and his body drenched in sweat. He remembered every detail—the grotesque spider  with its sharp, black legs and beady eyes, looming over him as he struggled to free himself from  its web. In his dream, he had been half-paralyzed with fear, unable to escape the creature’s grasp  as it taunted and tortured him. 

Now, as he lay in his bed, still trembling from the intensity of the recurring dream, he  realized that the spider was not just a figment of his imagination. It was a manifestation of his  deepest fears and insecurities, a symbol of the overwhelming challenges and struggles he faced in  his waking life.  

The tattoos covered his body from head to toe—even his face. 

He had tried to subconsciously resist the spine-chilling transformation, to hide by going  back into a deep, fitful sleep that night, hoping it was only a nightmare. But the tattoos seemed to  have a mind of their own, and soon, his entire body was covered in a symphony of ink, intricate  and detailed, each telling a story he could not understand.  

Derek became a spectacle, a mystery, and a work of art. People would point and gawk at  his tattoos. He nearly lost his medical practice. 

He could not explain the disturbing dichotomy, but he felt an intense connection to these  markings. He intuitively realized they were a part of him and he would never be alone again. After experiencing the vicious beating when he was a teenager that almost took his life,  Derek struggled with feelings of unworthiness, believing that he somehow deserved what had  happened to him. He had been selfish that day, not listening to his mother and not wanting to visit  with his grandmother. Then she died suddenly; he never saw his grandmother again. It felt like there must have been something inherently wrong with him if the universe was willing to use its  power against him in such cruel ways. 

As a prominent plastic surgeon, he performed each reconstructive procedure with as much  focus and precision as if working on his own body. His attention to detail and excellence in each  procedure were an extension of the reconstructive surgeries performed by Dr. Christopher Casey  on him as a child. 

When he performed craniofacial surgery, it was, in his mind, a repetition of the one  performed on his face so many years before. A reconstructive microsurgery on the delicate bones  of a hand that might someday perform life-altering procedures. 

In his dreams, he relived moments of profound regret and insecurity. He had told himself  it was for the best when Kendal had left him for a short time before they married. He was protecting  himself from the disappointment and hurt that inevitably came with a relationship’s dissolution.  He had been able to rehabilitate himself in her eyes.  

But now, in this vivid dream, he gripped the steering wheel of his parked Bentley and felt  the familiar explosion go off in his head. He could not deny the truth any longer. He was a lonely  and lost man. The realization was like a punch in the gut, and he could not help but feel a wave of  sadness for what might have been.