Close-up of a small black script tattoo reading Fight like a girl on the lower abdomen above the waistband of dark jeans.

Fight like a girl script on the lower abdomen

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo reads Fight like a girl in a looping cursive script, with the words stacked over three lines and the word like set smaller in the middle. The linework is solid black and even, with no shading, and the skin around it looks lightly pink. The photo is a close crop of the lower abdomen against a bright blue background, with the top of dark grey jeans, a metal zip pull and a button in the lower part of the frame.

Lettering Other Script Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind had got into the lamp room before I did, rattling the brass hinges and driving rain sideways across the glass. Dad was on the stair below, coughing the way he had since February, and the lamp was half turned when the flare went up off Scarth Point. Two boys from the mainland, by the look of the flare. The only man on the island who could climb to the gallery in that weather was lying in a bunk with a fever he would not admit to.

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Down at the slip, Pryce was already shoving his boat off the shingle. 'Leave it to the men, love,' he said, not looking at me. 'You'd only fight like a girl out there.' I didn't answer him. I took the spare dinghy, the one with the split stern, and pulled out past the breakwater with my palms torn open before I was past the second buoy.

The tide ran hard against me for an hour. I lost sight of the light twice and found it again by the sweep of its beam, which was the only thing out there I trusted. When I reached the crab boat it had half filled, and the two boys were clinging to the gunwale like limpets. I got one under the arms and then the other, and I rowed them back the way the lamp told me to, slow and steady, because a girl who panics in a swell drowns in her own boat.

By dawn the rain had blown itself out. Pryce was standing on the quay with his cap in both hands, and he nodded once, the way men nod at weather. I went up the tower, wiped the salt from the lens, and kept it turning.