SHORT A/N : The very beginning of this chapter is a bit boring, but it does get interesting, I promise!

Noah has thankfully released from the hospital two days ago. The doctors wanted him to stay overnight to make sure there wasn't anything else wrong besides the oxygen touching the blood. Of course, he fought them and tried telling them that he was perfectly fine, but he lost his battle.

As for Silas, his dad had to take a few weeks off from work because of his broken leg, so Silas decided that he wanted to find a job. I'm completely for it. It might be time for me to find a job as well. Money is sort of a hard thing to come by right now. My brothers have been working their asses off lately just to pay off a few bills, and it's about time that I pitch in and help.

Today, I scheduled another appointment with my therapist, Dr. Mase. It's been awhile since I last saw him. When we last spoke, I was really able to let myself go and blab about everything wrong in my life. He really helped me to see that I have people that care for me and would do anything for me, even if they don't fully understand what I'm going through. He helped me to realize that Silas is truly the one person whom I can count on to talk to. It's possible that he even helped me discover my feelings for him.

Dr. Mase comes into the waiting area and tells me that he's ready. I gather myself and all of my thoughts as I walk into his office and take a seat in one of those abnormally comfy chairs. He takes a seat in the chair in front of mine. This moment surely brings back memories.

"So, Rowen, last we talked, you were in a pretty bad place. Have you made any progress with your depression?" He asks.

I've always known that I had depression, but it has never felt so real until now. If I could, I would say that all of my problems instantly disappeared the minute I got to talk to Silas. I would say that my life is in tip-top shape with no missing pieces. I would say that I'm not caught in a cliche, love triangle between my best friend and my past enemy. If only like were that simple.

"Yeah, I guess I have," I say.

He nods. "Are you improving on controlling your anger?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I haven't really lashed out on anyone lately." Saying this give me a sense of self-confidence. I have been doing better with handling my emotions, especially my anger.

Dr. Mase jots something down on his trusty clipboard. Sometimes, I wonder what it is he's writing down. Of course, he would never reveal that kind of information, even to me; his patient. "This is good, Rowen. You're making excellent progress," he says.

The rest of the appointment goes by without a hitch. The two of us talk mostly about me, though Silas' name is mentioned a few times. I also bring up Noah and the incident that occurred a few days ago. I don't give him all the details, but enough for him to understand.

After the appointment, I decide that there's really no need for me to continue seeing Dr. Mase. I'm doing a lot better, thanks to Silas. Even though I've only been to two appointments, I still feel as though I can handle the rest of this little journey on my own. Although it was great having to talk to someone, it's time for me to start fresh with a new sense of visionary on the world.

When I get home I see Caleb sitting at the kitchen table with his phone in hand, seeming awfully invested on what is occurring on the screen. Once I put my purse down, I ask, "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Hey, which do you prefer? Flowers or butterflies?" He questions, his eyes not leaving his phone screen.

I kick off my shoes and push them into a corner with my foot. "Um, why are you asking?"

"Just answer the question."

"Okay, then neither. Both are completely overrated," I say. I walk into the kitchen with so many questions as to why he would be asking me if I prefer flowers or butterflies, some of which I don't want to know. Then I look over Caleb's shoulder and see him scrolling through images of tattoos, and I know. "You should get the one with the butterfly and the cross. That would be conversation starter."

"If I put that on my calf, Jesus would sure as hell regret Christianity," he says, still looking through the images of horrible tattoos. "But this isn't for me. It's for you."

Now I know he's gone insane. "Excuse me?"

"Rowen, getting a tattoo is like the beginning of the rest of your life. It's a feeling of self-worth and dignity. Think of it as your first step into womanhood."

This moment suddenly got really uncomfortable and I have to walk away, almost dying of inner laughter in the process. "Really? You're gonna lecture me about my womanhood? Don't you think that talk is a bit overdue?" Neither of my brothers have ever asked me if I wanted a tattoo, but now that I'm weeks away from the age of eighteen, I'm in for a whole collection of embarrassing talks and moments.

Caleb puts his phone face down on the table. "Look, at least consider it. And it doesn't even have to be a freaking butterfly!"

The more that I do think about it, the more I'm already regretting it. If I were to go along with my brother's idea, I'd have to pick something that will be on my body for the rest of my life. It might look nice when I'm eighteen, but by eighty, it will most likely look like a form of skin disease. If I went something small, it may not look too horrible. Still, I'd be stuck with it.

~~~~~

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I say.

"What do you mean? I think it's an awesome idea!" Taylor says from the driver's seat. Yesterday, Caleb practically backed me into a corner and listed off all the reasons why getting a tattoo is a fabulous idea. I fought him on it, but he just wouldn't back down. Then, of course, Dylan had to come home and give his opinion, and it's obvious how that conversation went. But once Taylor got a hold of the news, it was all over.

She insisted on taking me to the tattoo parlor herself. Caleb wanted to drive, but the last thing I needed was him taking a video of me screaming while the tattooist pokes the crap out of me. Taylor threatened to take the video herself, but I told her that if she wanted to come with me, I would need to confiscate her phone.

All through the night, I was image searching different tattoo ideas. I don't want something too obvious or extravagant, but something that I can easily hide. I prefer one without any color, this way it won't look like a spot of mud as my skin ages. Basically, the only requirement that I have on my checklist for a tattoo would be that it has to be small, black, easy to hide, and unnoticeable.

It was only early this morning when I finally decided on one that I liked. Both my brothers begged me to tell them what I was getting, but I told them that it was a surprize. Taylor knows though, as she also offered to pay as an early birthday gift. I know exactly where on my body I want it, and to make sure that the tattoo artist gets it right, I brought along a small sketch.

As we're driving, Taylor is acting a little too jittery then normal. "So aren't you excited?" She asks.

"Excited for a needle piercing my skin and leaving behind a mark that I'll be stuck with for all eternity? Sure, I'm ecstatic."

She giggles, turning down the radio a bit while keeping her eyes on the road. We're listening to some calming country music. I happen to find this type of music soothing for the soul, whereas Taylor thinks it's all about the hot boy from Texas with the cowboy boots and sexy accents. "I'm still kind shocked that Caleb convinced you to do this," she says. She's not the only one. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for this new rebellious attitude and wanting to find yourself, but ever since Noah left town, you've never really been the type to hitch a ride on the insubordinate express."

Sometimes, I forget that Noah existed to the rest of the world as well. To me, he was the perfect example of the boy next door; the boy that won my heart and took it with him to Michigan. To others, he was just this great guy that was friends with everyone.

I remember that I haven't spoken to him since I left the hospital. I did text him the other day to ask how he was feeling, but he never replied, which kind of worries me. However, today's not a day to retreat into past heartache. I'm about to get my first taste of skin cancer and all I can think about is my poor ass job at relationships.

We finally arrive at the tattoo parlor, and my breath scurries back into my throat. The overall look of the exterior isn't as scary as I imagined. The place is called Precious Ink and the slogan is Tattoo Parlor and Piercings. The letters are written in a black, gothic font. On the window is a display of different tattoos, most of which contain sculls, the silhouette of a naked woman, and fire. "Are you sure this place takes credit and not human hearts?" I ask. I'm honestly not sure if that was supposed to be sarcastic.

Taylor swings her purse over her shoulder and closes the car door. "I know a guy that works here. Maybe for you, he'll make an exception," she jokes.

"That is so not funny," I say.

Both of us walk into the shop and I'm even more frightened. Each wall is a totally different color. They go from orange, to red, to a dark violet, to an even darker magenta. The floor is of black tile, and almost everything else in here is black. Display cases filled with piercings are scattered all throughout, some even bigger than an actual ear. Luckily, I didn't have to see a woman getting a nipple pierced when I walked in, so there's like fifty points in the bag right there.

A man stands behind the counter with more tattoos than he has skin. Both sides of his head are shaved, leaving only a thin layer of hair behind, though the top patch of hair remains fully intact. Both of his ears have several piercings, and he wears a black tank top. Overall, he's just your everyday, tattooist.

"Hey, Jackson," Taylor says as we walk further into the parlor.

The tattoo artist, Jackson, looks up and smiles when he sees us. "Taylor, how's it going?" He asks, making his around the counter. "Finally ready to get inked up?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Jacks, but you've got another lucky lady to ink up." She obviously means me, and I've never wanted to hide under a rock so badly in my life.

Jackson looks over at me and smiles. "Nice to meet you..."

He pauses, and I hold out my hand to shake his. "Rowen," I say, finishing his sentence.

"Nice to meet you, Rowen. Name's Jackson. Wish I could say I've heard a lot about you but Taylor prefers to keep me away from civilization," he says.

"Maybe that's because you're always offering coupons and discounts to everyone who knows everyone," Taylor says.

Jackson chuckles and leads us to a corner of the parlor. There, waiting for me, is a large, black, leather armchair with a table perched right next to it. There's an assortment of ink colors, small bottles, tattoo designs, and needles all in one box. I'm offered a seat and I sit myself down in the armchair. It's actually quite comfortable, and my mind is at its first feelings of ease.

Taylor stands behind Jackson as his takes out a few tools from the box. "So, what will I be doing for you today?" He asks me. I pull out the sketch from my purse and hand it to him. He examines in carefully and smiles, followed by Taylor, who is now giving me two thumbs up. "Good choice, especially for a first timer. Where would you like it?"

I point to the spot on my hand where I would like it. "Right here, please," I say politely.

He nods and gets the rest of his tools situated, whereas I try to relax myself. I've watched plenty of videos on the internet of people getting their first tattoos. Some were so calm, they barely made a peep. Others had screams that could be heard from the east coast. Those were the ones that really brought forth the anxiety, but it's too late to turn back now.

Jackson dumps what I guess is chemicals onto a soft cloth and rubs it onto the chosen patch of skin where the tattoo will be. Then, holding up a tool that has a scary resemblance to a gun, he says, "Now this might hurt a bit, but just take some deep breaths, and you'll be just fine. You with me?"

I nod. "Yeah, let's just get this over with." All of the sudden, I feel a sharp, stabbing pain in my hand. My facial features begin to twitch and cringe. I'm already pulling back tears.

My eyes are pointed at my hand and the ink gun as a little design begins to appear. Jackson is fully concentrated on nothing else, thank god. Whenever I pictured myself getting a tattoo, I always thought of the Milky Way commercial where the tattooist accidentally writes No Regerts on the guy's arm instead of No Regrets, and she blamed it on the Milky Way. I don't blame her. Milky Ways are amazing, but Jackson can't use that as an excuse if he screws up.

It has been almost and hour now and the design looks like it's almost done. I've gotten accustomed to the pain now, which is relieving because Taylor would never have gotten embarrassing footage of me even if I hadn't taken away her phone. She's now sitting in another chair, watching in excitement. "You're doing great!" She says.

"Yup, you're almost done," Jackson replies. I don't say anything until he's finished, and before I know it, I'm left with exactly what I wanted. There, carved into my skin for all eternity, is the one thing that will keep me close to my mother forever: her constellation. Everything about it is simply perfect. It's exactly the right size, with the right shapes and dimensions, and has no color other than black. "Boom! Am I amazing, or what?"

"This looks absolutely amazing. It's everything I wanted," I say. "Thank you so much."

Jackson puts down his ink gun and grabs another cloth, wiping down the tattoo. "You're very welcome, Rowen. I've got to say, this is probably some of my best work."

Taylor grins and says, "Yeah, we've all seen your work before, Jacks." She then walks over to me to get a closer look at the tattoo, and her eyes light up. "Wow, Rowen. It's so beautiful."

"Yeah, it is." Looking at the constellation, it's like looking at my mom. She has always had stars in her eyes, and now I can look at them forever. Now, she'll never leave my side.

A / N :

Hello, my loves! Thank you for reading another chapter of We Are Stars! Remember, every vote counts, so be sure to VOTE VOTE VOTE if you enjoyed this chapter.

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