Author's Note: Heyyy, you many notice something off about this chapter, if you're an OG follower of this story, when it first came out. I tweaked out some details, seeing as this was written with the influental topics and slangs that dated back from 10+ years ago. Example, I had my girl Trixie wear a pair of Timberland heels, which was a vibe in the early 2010s, but now in 2025 - it's a no lol. Otherwise, for those that are new readers, welcome to chapter 3. Hope you've been enjoying the story so far.

Disclaimer: I only own Inner.

Warning: Humor. Butts. Drama.

Tattoo

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Chapter 3: Contemplation and Disregard

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts..." - Rachel Carson

Ouh... You still like Jake… You still like Jake…

School hadn't even started yet, and Trixie Carter already wanted to find the nearest brick wall and bang her head against it until that mystic voice in her head shut the hell up. She didn't know where this dark, feisty voice came from—but it was relentless. Always talking about Jake. Jake this. Jake that. Jake's butt. Jake's smile. Jake's everything.

She'd tried everything to drown it out: hands over ears? Fail. Closing her eyes and retreating into her happy place? Shattered like cheap glass. And look—she worked hard for her peace. But this voice? This chaos? It was like some invisible homegirl had decided to hitch a ride in her consciousness and roast her life choices on full volume.

And worst of all—it was kinda right.

After speed-walking from the alley near her house, Trixie pushed through a horde of Millard Fillmore High students clogging up the parking lot, grumbling under her breath and throwing more elbows than apologies. No way was she gonna politely ask anyone to move. Mama Trixie didn't play like that.

"Whatever you are, you betta leave me alone," she thought angrily, eyeing every shadow like it might sprout a mouth.

'Nah… I'm not going anywhere,' the voice purred, amused and smug as hell.

Trixie growled under her breath. Grrr.

Eventually, she made it inside the school building. The hallway buzzed with energy—teens gossiping, teachers pretending their coffee would get them through the day. Her New Balance sneakers stumped against the marble floors as she moved toward her locker. Ten minutes till class. No friends around. Nothing to do.

"Sigh. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

'Ouh! Ouh! I know what you should do,' the voice chimed in like an eager kid with the world's worst ideas.

Trixie visibly twitched. She scanned the hallway again. Still no shady figures lurking. Just teenagers being loud. Teachers sipping caffeine. She tried to shake the paranoia off.

'You should totally touch Jake's ass,' the voice purred mischievously.

Trixie froze.

"…WHAT?!"

'It's just too cute.'

Trixie's eyes widened in disbelief. Was this voice for real?! "NO! I ain't touching his ass! Da hell is wrong with you?!" she mentally shouted.

'Yes you should. You want to. Just a little squeeze.'

"NO." Her hands curled into fists. The voice was getting bolder, and Trixie was one suggestion away from slapping herself into next week.

Instead, she took a new route: slamming her forehead gently—okay, not-so-gently—against her closed locker door. Repeatedly.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

She didn't care who was watching. Let them wonder. Let them stare. Let them think she was two fries short of a combo.

'Okay okay OKAY, STOP!' the voice groaned. 'You're making me dizzy!'

Trixie froze.

Wait.

Did this voice just say "me"? Like it was physically affected by her movement?

Was it… inside her head? Like, actually inside?

"Oh my God. I got a damn ghost roommate," Trixie whispered.

'Look, Trishelle Carter, don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm not a demon. I'm not gonna explode your brain or steal your edges. I'm a magical inner voice. Here to guide you through… all the mess you're about to deal with.'

Trixie's jaw dropped.

A magical. Inner. Voice.

What the actual hell?!

She wanted to run home, burrito herself in blankets, and pretend this was a fever dream brought on by too many hot wings the night before. But she couldn't. So instead, she stood there with her mouth agape like a glitching NPC.

"So you're… like a conscience?"

'Basically. But, like, hotter. And sassier. And magical.'

"…From the magical realm?"

'Ding ding. Girl, you're catching on.'

Before Trixie could process that terrifying bombshell, the bell rang.

"Oh hell," she muttered. Drama class.

Out of all classes, it just had to be the one she shared with Jake and Rose. Forty-five minutes of watching those two cuddle up like the cover of a high school romance novel. At least Spud would be there. That used to mean something. Before everything changed.

Back in middle school, Trixie and Spud had been ride-or-die—cracking jokes, finishing each other's sentences, having each other's backs when things got wild. But ever since high school hit, and Stacey showed up with her perfect hair and constant clinginess, Spud seemed to forget all about their friendship. Texts went unanswered. Plans faded before they were ever made. And when she did see him? He was either holding Stacey's hand or talking about Stacey or showing off some dumb meme Stacey sent him.

Now it felt like his whole personality had been replaced by hearts and hormones.

Trixie missed her friend. The real Spud. The one who could make her laugh even when she felt like screaming. But apparently, there wasn't room in his world for her anymore. Not unless Stacey approved.

So yeah, Spud would be in drama class. If he wasn't too busy simping over Planet Stacey.

Trixie bolted up the stairs to the third floor, sprinting in her hooligan stomp-run hybrid, mentally arguing with the voice the whole way.

'Boo, you stink at running. You move like a terrified chihuahua.'

"Shut the fuck up before I whoop your ass like it's midterms," Trixie hissed internally, oddly proud of the comeback.

'Please. Jake's gonna be the one doing the whooping—if y'all ever admit your feelings.'

Trixie's cheeks flushed red.

"OH MY GOD, ENOUGH."

She was so caught up in arguing with the voice that she didn't notice the couple in front of her until it was too late. One second she was charging forward like a freight train of sass and anxiety, the next—

BAM.

Her body slammed into a solid chest, hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Momentum launched her backward like she'd hit a brick wall, and her New Balances lost traction as her legs flew out from under her. She landed flat on her butt with a loud, echoing thud that made several nearby students turn their heads.

Pain flared in her spine, but her pride burned hotter.

"Shit," she hissed, already rubbing her tailbone.

Everything hurt—physically, emotionally, cosmically.

She squinted up at the two silhouettes towering above her.

Jake Long and Rose Tyler.

Of course it was them.

And something inside Trixie cracked.

It wasn't just that she ran into them—it was that she wasn't even surprised. Of course they were here. Together. Smiling, casual, perfect. And she was on the floor, awkward, alone, and aching.

The sight of Rose's hand in Jake's, of Jake's attention laser-focused on someone else, was a familiar knife twisting in her gut. Trixie had told herself it didn't matter anymore, that she was over it, that Jake was just a friend she used to know. But in this moment—seeing them so effortlessly close—every lie she told herself unraveled.

And the worst part? It wasn't just about liking Jake.

It was about being forgotten.

She was the friend left behind. The girl who used to laugh the loudest. The one who could always match Jake's fire with her own spark. Now she was just a footnote in a story that had moved on without her.

Trixie blinked hard and pushed herself up, the sting of shame crawling up her spine like a second skin.

Jake offered a sheepish smile and extended a hand. "Sorry, Trixie. Didn't see you."

Trixie froze.

He called her Trixie. Not Trix. Not Mama Trix. Not anything familiar or warm. Just… distant.

And Rose? Not even paying attention—earbuds in, eyes on her phone. Trixie's heart twisted in on itself.

She forced herself to smile. "Boy, you better watch where you goin'. Can't your blind ass see I'm late for class?"

Jake blinked. Wait… was Trixie snapping at him? Since when did she sound like her old self again?

He scratched the back of his head, clearly thrown off. "My bad. I was looking for Rose's bracelet. She dropped it."

There it was again.

Rose. Rose. Rose.

Like she was the center of Jake's damn universe.

And now, Trixie was apparently expected to help locate this girl's bracelet? The audacity.

Last time she checked, she and Jake hadn't been on speaking terms since the dinosaurs went extinct. And now he wanted her help like they were still the dynamic duo from middle school? Please.

"Oh sure, let me just consult my magical psychic friendship radar," she thought bitterly. "Because obviously, I've been keeping tabs on Rose's jewelry collection ever since you both stopped texting me back a billion years ago."

She mentally rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised they didn't fall out. Jake had some nerve—waltzing back into her life with his beautiful face, perfect smile, and tragic lack of self-awareness. The same boy who used to call her Trix now only acknowledged her when his girlfriend lost stuff.

Was she supposed to be flattered?

'Oop—girl,' Inner chimed in, clearly trying—and failing—not to laugh, her voice wobbling with suppressed snorts. 'You really said "bracelet? I barely know her."'

Trixie didn't respond. She was too busy imagining herself flipping Jake's entire shoe rack upside down and walking away in slow motion.

'No but seriously, drag him. That was spiritual.'

Trixie clenched her jaw and straightened her spine. Not today.

She clenched her fists. She didn't realize the purple glow creeping over her fingers.

All she knew was that her heart was pounding like a war drum, her chest too tight to hold the storm building inside. Her fingers tingled, not just with adrenaline—but with something... alive. Like static and flame had fused together and settled beneath her skin.

It wasn't a chill. It wasn't a shiver. It was heat—low and rising—spreading up her arms, curling like smoke around her wrists. Her thoughts, sharp and angry, spun so fast she could barely hear Inner anymore. It felt like all the hurt, all the betrayal, all the bitterness she'd buried for years suddenly clawed its way to the surface, demanding to be seen.

And her body listened.

The glow bloomed in response, feeding off her fury.

And she didn't even notice.

"I don't know where it is," she snapped, voice sharp.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Dang girl, you okay? You sound—"

No shit. "Nothin' wrong with me, Jacob."

Jake flinched. Jacob. Oh shit. She was pissed.

He looked at her hands. "Wait. Trixie… your hands…"

But it was too late.

Trixie's anger boiled over. She whipped her arm out.

"NO!"

A blast of purple energy exploded from her palm.

Rose's iPod burst into flames.

Silence.

Three stunned teenagers.

Jake's breath caught mid-sentence, his words cut off like a glitch in reality. His eyes were locked on Trixie's hands—on the soft, pulsing glow radiating from her fingertips. His mouth opened slightly, then shut again, as if his brain couldn't keep up with what his eyes were seeing.

Rose pulled out her earbuds, finally looking up—and for the first time, her expression cracked. Her jaw dropped as she took in the scene, iPod still smoldering near her feet. For once, her usual calm composure was gone. She didn't speak. She just stared.

Jake took a small step forward, hands raised like approaching a wild animal. "Trix… what was that?" he asked softly, his voice filled with awe, confusion—and something deeper. Worry. Wonder. Maybe even fear.

Trixie didn't answer.

She couldn't.

Because she was staring at her hands too.

They were glowing.

And it wasn't stopping.

The light pulsed brighter with every beat of her heart, like magic had always been there, dormant, waiting for this exact moment to wake up.

She was glowing.

And the world would never be the same again.

"What the hell…?" she whispered.

And then she ran.

Through the hallway. Past the lockers. Past the didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to get girls' bathroom. She burst through the door, panting, hands trembling.

She paced. "What is wrong with me?! How the fuck did I do that?!"

'Trixie. Turn around.'

She did.

And she saw the mirror.

A girl.

Her.

But not.

A reflection that didn't match her movements. A girl with brown skin and long curls, dressed in a black lacy Lolita dress, stockings, a wizard hat, and a smirk that said *I know everything about you. She held a had Trixie's lips.

Her soul.

Trixie's fingers grazed the mirror.

"…That's me."

Author's Note: Welp, what do you think Trixie is, in terms of magical creature?