She wasn't sure if it was her father's way with words or her own stubbornness, but he had failed to fully convince her. It seemed irrational and unnecessary when so many young men were lining up to learn from him.
Without a doubt, tattoos are socially unacceptable, she remembered her teacher telling her. She had supposedly asked out of curiosity, but she was concerned for herself. Tattoos were still, for the most part, considered rebellious when worn by those not involved in the military, where a tattoo might be worn as a way to show allegiance or to honor fallen comrades.
She had read about tattoos more than anything else she had in the past. It had been described as self-destructive and almost every article had assured readers that tattoos guaranteed that the wearers would be unable to rejoin normal society, forever. Tattoos were telltale signs of a troubled youth, she read. She approached her father with her findings, hoping to change his mind, but he burned them all.
They were not her writings, so they did not matter.
She had been unable to talk herself out of it. Her father looked sick and she was unable to deny him what had been his only request in years. Besides, she was a dutiful daughter and so, naturally, but reluctantly, she had accepted, though she felt there was never any need for her consent.
"It's complete. You must not put any pressure on your back, Riza." He wiped her back one more time and stood up. "You must be in great pain. I'll leave you." The door sounded and she was alone. He was right; the pain had left her numb. It had been some time since she'd thought about him, but she wished her father's apprentice had stayed, if only a little longer. Perhaps if he had, her father could've given him the secrets instead.