Scarlett Vargas

The Coffer

Something bright flashes against my closed lids, turning my sleeping world bright red for a moment. I'm not quite ready to wake up, so I toss my blanket over my face and groan from a sharp pain in my wrist. The hell did I do in my sleep this time? Slowly I open an eye and see two things that catch my attention very quickly: this is not my blanket, and when did I get a tattoo? The black ink looks fresh, almost like a pool of liquid on my skin, with my skin around it showing an angry and burning red-black. Curiosity and fear starts to eat at me, making my stomach churn, so I slowly bring the blanket down so I can see where I am.