Emily lay sprawled across her parents’ bed, gazing intently at Sarah while gently kicking her feet in the air. As her mother brushed her hair in front of the mirror, the glint of her earrings caught Emily’s eye—shiny, elegant, and adding a sense of completion to the entire scene.
Sarah, noticing the way Emily’s eyes lingered on the earrings, smiled softly. “Checking out my earrings, Em?” she asked, continuing to run the brush through her hair. Emily nodded, resting her chin on her hands. “Yeah…they’re cool, mom,” she said, her voice trailing off with a hint of wistfulness. She’d never truly paid much attention to ear piercings before—at least, not consciously. But lately, it had become one of those things she couldn’t ignore - a quiet rite of passage that she hadn’t truly considered but suddenly seemed more significant.
“I wonder when I’ll get my ears pierced…” she thought, imagining herself with tiny, glittering earrings like the ones some of the girls at school wore. Lily, for instance, had a delicate pair she sported on occasion. But even as the curiosity built inside her, there was a sudden and sharp push-back, a sense of discomfort, even revulsion from deep within, as if the idea of being pierced was—wrong.
She blinked, feeling the tension gnaw at her mind, that same strange feeling she had experienced before. It was as if there was a deeper, more instinctual voice whispering, “No needles. Definitely not”. But she pushed the thought away quickly, gently shaking her head. “It’s just earrings,” she mumbled to herself “What’s the big deal?”.
Sarah set down the brush and turned to Emily with a twinkle in her eye. “Would you like to get your ears pierced sometime, Em?” she asked gently, clearly trying not to overtly pressure her but curious about her daughter’s sudden interest.
Emily hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. The thought of having holes punched through her ears—of needles, in particular—made her stomach twist. “I don’t know, Mom… it sounds… like it might hurt?” She winced slightly, imagining the sharp pinch of the needle, followed by the slow sting that would inevitably follow.
Sarah, sensing her reluctance, crouched down to Emily’s level. “It’s really not that bad, I promise,” she explained with a reassuring smile. “It’s just a little pinch, and it’s over before you know it. And you get to choose your first pair of earrings! It’s fun.”
The curiosity tugged at Emily again, warring with the discomfort rising from deep within her. “No needles!”, that inner voice whispered again. “I don’t know…” Emily muttered, feeling her heart thud uncomfortably. Part of her—the part that didn’t want to let fear win—was beginning to outweigh her reluctance.
Finally, a rush of adrenaline shot through her, and she spoke with more certainty, pushing any sense of concern aside. “You know, I want to get them pierced. The other girls at school have earrings, and I want them too.” Confident as she was, she felt another small but insistent pushback, almost like a groan of discomfort. She ignored it.
Sarah smiled, clearly amused by Emily’s sudden bravado. “Alright then,” she said with a nod. “I’ll set up an appointment.”
—
The following weekend, Emily and Sarah found themselves at the local piercing studio. At first, Emily’s curiosity piqued as she admired the studio—the bold and colorful people, the even more bold and colorful artwork, and even the tattoos being carefully etched onto sometimes grumbling clientele. Yet, as the reality of what she had signed up for settled in, a sense of nervousness began to stir in her stomach.
Her initial excitement abruptly waned, and for just a brief moment, she considered bolting right out the door. Some deep part of her wanted nothing to do with needles - period. The memory of sharp objects, of needles piercing skin, seemed to claw its way to her soul, tensing her body and her soul. “Where is this coming from?” Emily wondered unable to place any needles or vaccines ever eliciting such a particular feeling. The intensity of it felt foreign, like it wasn’t just her fear alone.
As Emily found herself sitting on the edge of the chair, Sarah, ever the intuitive mother, noticed Emily’s anxiety. "You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, Em," she reassured her daughter with a gentle smile and a hair ruffle. "It's supposed to be fun, remember? You get to choose your first pair of earrings."
Bolstered by her mom’s encouragement, Emily tentatively perused the carousel of earrings. Her gaze settled on a pair of small, shiny stars that seemed playful, mischievous even, and spoke to her in a way that temporarily replaced her anxiety.
As they awaited their turn, Sarah shared tales of her own first piercing. "It’s just a tiny pinch, really," she reassured Emily, attempting to weave the experience into an adventure. Apparently a family tradition included the consumption of post-piercing ice cream—a tradition Emily was eager to partake in.
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However, once Emily actually sat perched on the edge of the chair, every muscle in her tensed as the technician prepared the piercing gun. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nose, and the tools gleamed under the bright lights. She tried to steady her breathing, reminding herself that this was supposed to be a fun rite of passage. It didn’t seem like just nerves anymore—it felt like something more primal, older, like something was desperately trying to run away, amplifying her fear.
“It’s just a pinch, " she repeated in her head, but the gnawing fear deep inside her refused to fade. “Why in the world are you willing to get your ears shanked for a shiny piece of metal!?” it grumbled back eliciting a quiet giggle from Emily. The humor was short lived however, as the technician began positioning the gun in earnest. “Allright sweetie, this will only take a second, and it will just feel like a pinch” he mentioned as he continued positioning the gun.
As the piercing gun moved closer, a different kind of panic welled up inside her—one that didn’t feel entirely her own. Her breath caught in her throat, and as the gun moved closer, the dread hit her in full force. The fear gripped her, but it didn’t feel like just her fear—it felt like someone else’s too. “No needles. Absolutely no way”, the voice echoed, sharper this time, like a shout from within.
In that instant, Emily felt a strange, momentary unification—a deep part of her mind snapping and aligning with something else. The sensation was bizarre but intense, as if she wasn’t just her in that moment. There was no more separation between her thoughts and those that didn’t quite feel like her own feeling both magical and overwhelming.
The room seemed to close in, and just as the technician squeezed the trigger, Emily’s control snapped and in a blur of panic, her mouth opened. The words came out in a rush—her voice and yet not entirely her own:
"Ohhhhhhh dear God HELL f---ing no!" she shrieked like a banshee. The shout was loud and full of alarm, blending a mixture of childlike fear and something more adult, more visceral - but both unified in their joint panic. For a split second, it was like they—Emily and something else inside her—had shouted in unison. The sensation of being unified was both overwhelming and, somehow, strangely comforting.
And then, everything went black.
–
Emily’s eyes fluttered open, feeling groggy and slightly disoriented. She blinked up at the ceiling, trying to get her bearings. This definitely wasn’t her bedroom—the room smelled sterile, sharp, like chemicals, and there was an unfamiliar weight on her ears.
A gentle tug at her earlobes brought her out of her daze, and she instinctively reached up to touch them. They felt strange, heavier than before. Slowly, her vision cleared, and she saw her mom hovering nearby, looking at her with a blend of concern and amusement.
Sitting up slowly, Emily’s eyes caught her reflection in a nearby mirror. There, nestled in her ears, were two tiny, twinkling stars. She survived! The piercing was done. And surprisingly, it hadn’t hurt much at all, just a faint sting. But then, as the rest of the memory clicked into place, her heart sank.
She remembered the yelling. The cursing. Oh no. Her hands flew to her face, eyes wide with horror as the full weight of her outburst hit her. Did I seriously scream that?
"Oh, Emily," Sarah said, stifling a chuckle. Her voice was calm but with that playful motherly edge. "We’ll definitely talk about your choice of words later. But first, are you okay?"
Still half-mortified, Emily gingerly touched her ears again. "I guess I’m okay..." She poked at her ears, wincing a little when Sarah gently pushed her hands away.
"Leave them alone for now, Em," Sarah warned softly, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Emily couldn’t resist taking another look at her new earrings in the mirror, tilting her head from side to side.
"They do look pretty cool," she muttered, the embarrassment fading as she admired the way the stars glinted in the light.
Glancing around the studio, Emily offered a sheepish look to the staff, who had been silent up until this point. "I’m... uh... sorry about, you know, the f-bomb... I kind of panicked."
Her apology was met with peals of laughter. The technician, who had been nothing but professional during the whole process, doubled over with laughter. The studio manager had tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold back, but even the other customers and kids couldn’t contain their chuckles. One employee, still grinning, handed Emily a lollipop as though to seal the moment with good humor.
"Don’t worry about it, kiddo," the technician finally managed, still chuckling. "We’ve heard worse, but yours definitely ranks high on the list of surprises."
Feeling both embarrassed and victorious, Emily followed her mother out of the studio. The cool breeze hit her face as they stepped outside, and Sarah leaned in with a grin. "Next time, Em, just a simple 'ouch' will do, okay?"
Emily laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissolved as they chatted about whether chocolate chip or strawberry ice cream would be their reward for the day. (Chocolate, obviously.)
As they passed a store window, Emily caught sight of her reflection again. The tiny stars sparkled in her ears, and she couldn’t help but smile at herself. Maybe needles aren’t so bad after all... she mused, but let’s not make a habit of it.