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notes
* Names of the survivor and abuser have been changed in this story for safety.
Some scars fade. Eva knew this one never would. It was permanent—inked across her chest so the world would know she belonged to him. The man who once seemed kind, caring and romantic had insisted she get his name etched across her collarbone and he, an amateur tattoo artist, would do it.
“I wanted to make him happy,” Eva says. “I didn’t have any option of the placement. He said he’d get my name on him. It was on his leg, but mine was out for everyone to see.”
She never chose the tattoo. She never wanted it. But somehow, it ended up there.
Abusers are like that—coercive, manipulative. Sometimes survivors comply just to keep the peace. After all, Eva rationalized, maybe it really was a sign of love. Then again, it was only four months into their relationship when Gage branded her.
The tattoo was just the start of his control. When Eva first met him at 33, she says he was “a gentleman.”
“He was everything you would hope to find in a man,” she remembers.
It didn’t last. After the tattoo, it was almost like Gage felt a surge of empowerment. He took total control of Eva, and, understandably, she was terrified. She felt trapped in the home they shared—another quick decision that she doesn’t remember making. He became suspicious of her every move, accusing her of being unfaithful. Like a hostage, he never let Eva out of his sight.
“I would go to the bathroom, and he would stand outside of it. When I came back [from leaving the house], he would check me. He would make me undress and check me,” she says. By that, she means he would check to see if she had been with another man, however one might assess that.
“It was very embarrassing,” says Eva. “I’ve never cheated on anyone.”
It was then that the tattoo started to make sense.
“I never understood why he did that, but then I realized—I’m property to him. I don’t mean nothing. I’m nothing.”
Gage grew up with violence, not that this is an excuse for his. His father used to abuse his mother, according to Eva. They were married a long time, but at some point before Eva came along, Gage’s mother was able to escape. The damage was done, though, and Gage began to emulate the toxic relationship of his childhood.
Ironically, his mom became Eva’s ally, something that irritated Gage.
“He would barely allow me to talk to his mother, and he would watch me when I did,” she says. “His mom told me that his dad was the same way, but she thought I had it worse.”
Gage escalated his abuse over time. He went from pushing and shoving Eva to hitting her. He would purposefully trip her and then laugh at her. He strangled her, the most dangerous of all abusive tactics. It shows that an abuser has the ability to kill their victim, but just hasn’t yet.
Then he would promise change.
“He’d say we’ll start going to church,” says Eva. “A couple of days later, he was back to being mean.” It was the cycle of abuse too many survivors know well.
Eva eventually became pregnant and they had a daughter. She’s six now, and the love of Eva’s life. Gage stopped his violence toward Eva while she was pregnant, but as soon as the baby arrived, he started right back up, focusing his abuse on her but leaving his daughter alone.
Eva wasn’t allowed to use the phone or the computer, so she had no outlet for support besides his mother. She knew she deserved better, and one winter day, she told him just that.
“I said, ‘I’m tired of being treated this way.’ He lifted his shirt and showed me the handle of his gun. He said that if I didn’t shut up, he would turn the snow red.”
His mom told Eva that she could feel something bad was on the horizon. She knew he would kill her and Eva, or maybe just her. Gage would walk around with weapons—guns or hammers.
“She knew it was any day.”
It all becomes a blur at some point.
“There’s a lot of things I don’t remember. Timelines. Certain situations. I think it’s my body protecting me,” Eva says. She remembers pieces of the day where police finally came.
“All I remember is running down the stairs screaming, and his mom calling the police,” she says. “He smacked the phone out of her hand.”
That time, he served a year in jail for domestic violence, according to Eva. But he eventually got out and came back.
Then one day near the beginning of this year, federal agents showed up and arrested him. Just like that, he was out of her life. Eva wasn’t even aware he was under investigation, but then again, Gage kept her from much of the outside world. Turns out, he was in possession of automatic weapons, possibly even retrofitting other weapons to be machine guns, which is a big no-no in the eyes of the law. Gage was sent to prison.
She can breathe, at least for now.
Since his arrest, she says she’s been working hard with the help of a therapist to repair the psychological damage he inflicted. She would hear his voice behind her, and she’d snap her head around thinking he was back. At night, he would appear after she fell asleep.
“For a long time, I had vivid, gross, violent dreams. There are some things that happened to me that I have not even told my therapist because it’s so embarrassing.”
But there was that one thing therapy couldn’t help her erase—where Gage had branded her with his name. That’s when she reached out to DomesticShelters.org. “I am trying to find out if there are any organizations that could assist me financially with a cover up of a large tattoo of his name on my chest. I have $200 saved up,” she wrote.
Enter Jared Forster, a talented independent tattoo artist of 15 years who works out of a studio in Flint, Mich. Not only would he do the tattoo, he told DomesticShelters, but he wouldn’t charge a cent. Using Eva’s ideas of flowers (her daughter’s input) and skulls (something she likes) as inspiration, he created a stunning and colorful design to cover up the once horrid reminder of seven years of abuse. As soon as Jared’s needle touched Eva’s skin, a needle not held by an abuser, but by someone who wanted to make her life better, she tried to describe what it felt like.
“The feeling….,” she starts, before going silent for a few moments. “The feeling, wow. When I was getting the tattoo done, I felt like the most blessed woman on the planet in that moment.”
It took two sessions to complete. When Forster was done, Eva stood up and looked in the mirror. For the first time, she didn’t see him reflected back.
“I instantly started crying and I gave Jared a hug. It was so overwhelming.”
Forster says he did the tattoo because, frankly, “Her story was terrible,” he says. “It’s the least I could have done.”
There’s not a lot of opportunities for a tattoo artist to help someone like Eva, he adds. In his decade-plus of tattooing, he says he’s seen people get a lot of tattoos for a lot of different reasons, but most are with lighthearted or poignant motives. “I’ve pretty much made my career out of fun tattoos,” he says. That’s why Eva’s story shocked him.
To brand someone without their implicit consent is “disgusting,” he says. “It’s a point of power to put your name on someone like that.”
Weeks later, the tattoo healed, Eva is still in shock.
“Jared is amazing. I just can’t believe he did this for me. I wish there was something I could for him,” she says.
And her daughter’s opinion? “She loved it,” Eva says. “She said ‘Wow, I love the colors! It’s beautiful!’ And that made me so happy.” Her daughter never previously asked about the man’s name tattooed across her mom’s chest and Eva never told her how it came about. Today, Eva’s only too happy to showcase the beautiful art that once marked a story she never wanted to tell.
“It used to be very hard to look [at myself]. Now, it’s so amazing to look in the mirror. Sometimes, I just look at it for a while. I almost feel conceited,” she says with a laugh. “I know the worst is over.”
DomesticShelters.org receives quite a few messages from survivors who have been forced into tattoos by their abusive partners or ex-partners. They’re often desperate for help to cover it up, like Eva, and erase the constant memory of one of the most painful moments of their lives. We’d like to help more survivors connect with generous and talented tattoo artists near them. If you're a tattoo artist interested in supporting survivors of domestic violence through free or low-cost cover-up work, we’d love to hear from you. Participation is entirely on your terms—set any limits you need on size, style or availability. Every gesture, no matter how small, makes a difference. Please email Amanda@DomesticShelters.org if interested.
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