If she was allowed to get a tattoo, she might get a gear, a single spiked gear on the small of her back. No one would know why. Her secret.
She's never had a secret. She wonders what it would be like.
After she's done her programmed dance, after her eyes have flashed, her presence has frightened... after it all, when they don't need her, she can almost feel herself
Sprawled on her bed, empty-eyed. Hollow and heavy at the same time. Unmoving.
If she was allowed to get a tattoo, she might get the word "broken". On the inside of her wrist. Only he would see it - no one else sees her without her gloves.
Not a secret. He would know.
He knows everything. He crafted her. He winds her, smooth hands feeling rough on her soft skin.
It's he who comes for her when she's lying empty-souled on the too-large bed. When it is time to dance again.
She wishes she was allowed a secret.