The House of Crows and Dreams - Deathwish

"Not every open wound is simply healed by time
 But revenge is always sweet
 And Chaos is the prize"
- Die (Casey Lee Williams)

Do you believe in paradise? A sanctuary where we can feel safe and ourselves?
People call it home. The beds you come to at night and rest your mind.
But what if I told you that your mind is never resting and you have always had this sanctuary within you all along?
Imagination is where you can drown yourselves in delusions of happiness.
But as a physical manifestation of your heart, it does exist.
It is beyond the average human's reach.
But I'm not your average human.
Every day, I can see the world within the people's eyes. The lens that hide the truth from the outside.
I can see everything with a simple glance into your eyes.
And should I will it, I can enter your paradise and see your true self.
But you don't want that. Because this sanctuary that contain our hearts don't really contain this safe paradise where we shelter ourselves.
It cages all the pain in our hearts that hide our true selves. The truth has always been an ugly thing.
If I poke into your heart, I wouldn't know what monsters I would face. I know I wouldn't want anyone to see into my broken heart.
Every day, I see through people's hearts and I ache to find how much people suffer.
From the heartache of breakups to those broken by their minds.
It's bad enough I have to face my own darkness every day. It's a miracle I haven't gone insane yet.
My heart is so empty now that I wouldn't really care if I lived or died. It's just a matter of when something's going to push me.
"Ivan, I'm heading home." I don't look up as Rene says goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye." I say as I focus my eyes on my PC.
I hate to see Rene's heart. A kind hearted person who suffers from the memories of her rape. It haunted me for weeks to peer through her eyes and see the same woman who smiled every day and gave out donuts every now and then chained to the wall with ropes made of photos and blindfolded with a black mask.
I never see the perpetrator's face, but it's always this crawling man with a hat and pitch black tentacles protruding from his body.
There are hardly any people I can look at in the office. Anymore.
It makes it so hard to bond with a person when you see the depths of their heart.
The IT guy from three chairs down cuts himself. His eyes hid a man in a room of blades that continue to cut him and he just smiles.
Our boss suffers from depression and her true self is curled up in a ball held down by balls and chains while the door in front of her is open. She won't leave..
There were only 2 people I could look at in the office.
Eliza, a girl who doesn't suffer from anything major and is one of the few who's sanctuaries are pleasant and safe.
And Ren. Well, Ren's been long gone.
But he was the closest friend I had.
What I saw in his heart was what I saw in front of me. The exact same person. This man who seems to just display his true self no matter where he went and no symbolism ever appeared. Just a man drinking his coffee in a cafe.
I thought I knew the real him. Then he abandoned me. He abandoned me and begun to lessen contact.
He's busy he says. And he began to forget me. I don't know him anymore.
It left a singular pain in my chest that never leaves for more than a few hours before coming back.
I'm sick of it.
When I'm finally done with my work, I clock out and leave. I hate the night shift because the trains would be closed and I'd have to take the bus.
The night air was chilling and fog littered the streets.
It was so damn creepy.
At least there were open convenience stores around here so if I run into trouble, I can just run into a 7-11.
After about 10 minutes of waiting, the bus finally arrived.
I pay the conductor and take a seat next to woman with brunette hair.
"Hello." She says to me.
The friendly type. I'd hate to see what kind of pain she hides.
"Hi." I say back without looking at her.
About a mile later, the bus stopped and a man in a hoodie entered.
There was something strange about his presence. Any normal person, I would have looked away.
But there was something that drew me closer to his sight.
He wore shades so thankfully my eyes couldn't see into his pupils directly. But what kind of person wears shades in the middle of the night?
He sat at the seat across mine.
For a while, I keep my head down and wait until I hear the driver announce that we're in my stop.
But I couldn't stop looking up. I just couldn't.
Until finally, I looked at his face. His features.
He seemed young. About my age.
Pale skin and lean. He had bright, blue dyed hair that stuck out at the edges of his hood.
He doesn't move, as if to let me keep staring.
Then suddenly, he smiles a tight lipped smile.
He reaches for his shades and withdraws them from his face.
His pale blue eyes pierced right through my eyes.
My eyes widened, my powers forcibly making its way through his soul.
"You shouldn't be here." He says. Inside his paradise.
He reaches out to me. No, his true self reached out. And I feel... FEEL... his soul's hand on my face.
"Go back to your own room." And I feel a force push me back.
I feel myself thrown back into the ground. But that shouldn't be right..
I was already seated.
Instead, I find myself on a marble floor and no longer on the bus.
"It took you long enough."
In front of me... Was me.
Red strings trapped him like a fly on a spiderweb. He wasn't even struggling to escape.
"What are you?" I managed to utter.
He laughed. "Years of peering into other people's hearts and you're surprised you finally see your own true nature?"
His eyes... They were a hollow green. There was nothing to see.
"You can't use your powers here. You're already seeing the depths of your heart."
I stand up and approach him. "What is this supposed to mean? What is binding you... Me... to this?!"
He tilts his head slightly and stares back at me. "You of all people should know."
"What do you mean?"
"If you have to ask your heart what it wants, than you ought to figure it out on your own."
"Don't be an asshole."
"But I am an asshole. You're an asshole." He chuckles. "Listen to me very carefully. You're about to come back soon and everything is about to change."
His eyes began to shine. "Strengthen your resolve and I shall give you my power. Your will to live will determine your fate."
"But... I don't have any." He smirked.
A scream breaks my stupor and the whole room was engulfed in a flash. I'm suddenly back in the bus.
And just as I fully return to my senses, the bus crashes into a wall and we're thrown into the floor.
There were only 7 of us in the night bus and luckily, the bus didn't overturn.
"Is everyone okay?" The conductor surveyed the passengers. "Everyone remain calm."
"We just crashed into a fucking wall! How do you expect us to calm down?" Said one of the rowdier passengers. My eyes catch a glimpse of his true self. A man trapped inside a well with bunch of people throwing what I assume are expectations.
He stands but returns to his seat. He seems to have injured his foot.
"You're hurt. Please don't move too much." An older lady approaches him. "Can someone check on the driver?"
The conductor approaches the driver and checks on him. "He's alive but he's passed out."
The conductor takes him off his seat and places him on the floor. The lady wraps a scarf over the man's bleeding head.
"Anyone else hurt?"
I hear someone gasp. The woman beside me had turned around. With shaking fingers, she pointed to the window.
Like something out of silent hill, a flying, flesh like monster I couldn't quite describe was staring at us. It screeched and I could feel the bus vibrate.
It wasn't the monster that shocked me.
It was the fact that not a single soul in this bus had moved or screamed for their life as the monster lunged for the kill.


"If it's not your will to live... Then how far will your will to die take you?"

(To be continued...)

The Weight of Despair

The sky is an endless abyss
Staring back at you
As you lay beyond the darkness
Overcome by sorrow

Eyes heavy, heart pacing
Limbs shaking, mind broken
Paralyzed by the same thing
That made you move

There was nothing wrong with faith
There was nothing wrong with trust
Lies everyone wishes to believe
Because faith only brings you pain

Swallowed by that darkness
You writhe, but you can't move
Shut your eyes and try to dream again
And just wish its a painless slumber

To All The Friends I've lost and to those that Stuck Around

You, my flock from when things went to shit
You, who made suffering a game we had to play
You, the people I had called my own
You... whose heart I had broken

The passage of time had not been kind
The distance had made our knots come undone
It almost seems as if we were going to fall off
Yet we tether around this small string in the balance
And we're in a state of strange limbo

You, who I've mocked our work with together before
You, who made our career not as dull
You, my friends who all at once scattered
You... My brother whom I poured my heart out to

There was always a time limit to where things would end
We all knew things were dragging onto a toxic cloud
And though we were apart, there was still unity
At least, I hoped there was
But I was too weak to my own heart and fell into darkness

You, the last person I thought would be my friend
You, the last person I thought would care about me
You, the last person I thought dealt with the same issues as I did
You... my best friend

Decades made us grow weary
We, who have taken this journey together
Both separate, and then together once again
You people are my world
And without you, I'd be lost to my emptiness

Sunlight's Fiend

"And I don't wanna beg your pardon
And I don't wanna ask you why
But if I was to go my own way
Would I have to pass you by?"
- Black Flies (Ben Howard)

As assassins, we held pride and prestige over people who branded themselves as killers.
In truth, they were uncouth brutes who have never studied under the art. Yes, killing is art. Death is our masterpiece.
It's why we provide our services to clients like other artists in the world.
Thankfully, we are paid a handsome price and no one will hear us complain about copyright and credits.
Serial killers with a pattern are the lowest form in our art, after all. It's the easiest way to earn a ticket to a manhunt.
The only person of this art to ever get away with it is the Zodiac killer.
Honestly, he was just lucky. His time didn't have all this security and technology.
And the stereotypes! I'd be offended if I ever hear someone say "Irene Lane is a cold blooded and heartless psychopath."
I am perfectly aware what I am doing. I am perfectly aware that this is a crime.
But God knows I don't care about that or him. This is the way I have to live because it's the only way I know how to survive. The only way I know how to sustain a good life.
I can accept being called ruthless. But don't ever call me a heartless psychopath.
But if there's something I can acknowledge, it's that the life of an assassin is a life of routine. Especially with clients.
Sometimes there is a degree of specifics we need to follow to satisfy our client's request. The customer is always right.
Even in our company, this is what brings order to our system of murder.
My next client is oddly specific.

Target: Travis Sage.
An up and coming painter who won the Worldwide Paint Royale and is to paint a masterpiece that's to be distributed worldwide. Price for the painting will be an estimated over 3 billion dollars.

I'm a little envious considering how their art is paying them that much and it's legal. Maybe I should learn how to paint on the side.
Maybe even consider using my next target's blood as paint. But that's just ridiculous.

Client's Request:
I want Travis Sage to suffer a beautiful betrayal. To be killed by someone who he will learn to put his trust in. To be killed by someone he considers his friend.
I can give you his schedule and I can give you my reasons.

That's new. Clients never usually give us their reasons. Maybe an occasional "I want this bitch to die" But nothing about reasons. Schedules are another thing.
We usually have to get that ourselves, but this guy is being extremely helpful right now.
What's the catch? Who is this guy?

Travis's Schedule:
(Location: Brie Street, Dolores Complex, Northbrick, Colorado)
Daily basis:
Morning:
9:00 Wake up at 9:00
9:10 Take a bath10:00 Eat breakfast at Cindy's diner
10:30: Go out to run errands or jog
Afternoon:
Have lunch at 12:30
Paint from 1:30-3:00
Break from 3:00-5:00
Night:
Dinner at 5:20
Paint from 6:00 until 8:00
Free time until 9:00
9:20 sleep.

Specific Day schedule:
Sunday: Resupply art supplies at 1:30
Tuesday: Visit cousin at hospital at 2:00
Saturday: Play Yugioh at card shop at 4:00

Reasons:
Travis Sage is the most selfish, hateful, annoying and spineless jerk I've ever had the displeasure of knowing. I wish he'd stop existing. I wish he'd just die.
He has hurt me far too much for me to forgive him. He is the reason why I have constantly wished to die. And I want him to feel that pain.
He had no right to make me suffer when all I've done was try and keep him going.
Please.
I will pay you anything you want. Just please get this scum off the streets by Sunday.
Wow. Whoever this is, Travis must have broke their heart so bad.
But it's not the first time I've had spurned lovers hire me to kill their old flame.
Let's see who this is.

Client Number 1452: Vera A. Gaitss
Client info locked. No info could be gathered.

"Wes!" I shout over to my office mate. "Do you know who Client 1452 is?"
"Not a clue." He says. "The hackers from floor 8 can't crack the Client's info. It's protected by some sort of built in firewall. The IP the client had for the request was tracked to a Starbucks in Eastbrick."
Well that's annoying.
I'd like to say I admire our hackers for trying, but honestly they're not really that good. It's a wonder we get information on our clients and targets at all. But the occasional information they can't dig up happens all the time. I really wish that Thanos Venge had taken our offer. Now that guy's a hacker. But of course, he had to be a man of morals and refuse to work for a company of assassins. It's a wonder he hadn't reported us to the police.
But I guess his business is more important than ratting out criminals that aren't in his way to the cops.
Normally, this kind of thing is a red flag for us to not accept. But it's not like they stop us.
And I do like a challenge.
So I accepted the client's request.
I'm expecting the first 7k of my money in my bank by tomorrow morning.

-X-

Thank God the target lives in Northbrick.
I'd really rather not go to Eastbrick. Eastbrick City, nice as it is, is a den of assholes considering how active Thanos Venge is. And Westbrick is such a creepy little town. The first time I got there, I got the chills.
Northbrick is where normal people like to live.
I moved into an apartment two blocks away from Dolores Complex. Unlike how TV portrays it, it's against protocol to live so close to the target. It raises suspicion considering how easy it is to bump into the target around his home.
The client's schedule has been dead on. It's almost as if the client was the target.
But that's just ridiculous.
Cindy's diner was a quaint little place.
"Hello there." The woman at the counter said. "You new around here?"
I smile. "Yes. Just moved here yesterday. I was walking around and saw your cute diner."
"It was the giant sunflower on the sign, wasn't it?"
I laugh. She laughs. And the conversation goes. So easy to capture people's hearts/ This is why you don't typically let go of your humanity as an assassin. Sometimes, it's easier to get around when you can draw out someone's attention.
"What do you recommend?"
"The most expensive thing on the menu." She, Karen as her nameplate reads, laughs again. "The triple cheese omelette is pretty good."
"Then I'll have that."
I take a seat at the stool. The boy next to me was definitely Travis Sage. Asshole supreme.
He's cute, in that boy next door kind of way.
What could painter boy have done to hurt my client so much to have her hire me.
He's sketching in his notebook.
"That's a nice drawing." I say. If he's that much of a jerk, considering he's an artist, he'll probably tell me to back off. It'll make killing him so much satisfying.
He looks up to me, his hazel eyes on me.
And he smiles.
"Just a silly doodle of a rose."
I'm caught a little off guard by his friendly reaction.
"I see." I clear my throat and regain my composure. "I'm Glenda. I just moved here."
Cover name, of course. Kind of.
Glenda's my middle name.
"Travis."
Karen sets down a plate of omelettes in front of me. "I see you've met our favorite potato here in Northbrick. He's a painter you know? He won the Worldwide Paint Royale two weeks ago!"
"Aw, Karen. It's nothing to brag about." He says. Is this modesty just a ploy?
"Nothing to brag about? You're Northbrick's pride! And if it weren't for you, Cindy's Diner would have gone out of business. You're a hero."
"Wait, what?" I say. Genuine shock fills my face. "Why?"
"Cindy's Diner was in some trouble because our supplier pulled out because he thought Northbrick was a boring town." Karen says. "We needed money to find new suppliers to match our quality. But we didn't have that much money or promotion. We thought we were through. But after Travis won, he gave us a lot of money to keep us going."
"Stop." Travis blushes. "It was nothing. I didn't want you guys to shut down."
"See? This man is the most selfless bastard I've ever met." Karen gushes before attending to another customer.
"That was really nice of you." I say. The client might be wrong about this one. Selfish, Travis Sage is not.
Travis closes his notebook and stands. "I'm sorry. I gotta run. I have to go run some errands. I'll see you around."
He walked out of the diner, heading off to buy art supplies most likely.
Our company red flag protocol might have been implemented for a reason. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
Damn this omelette tastes good.

-X-

I didn't expect to be dragged into the hospital when I decided to coincidentally bump into Travis.
"I'm visiting my cousin in the hospital. He's in a coma."
He was kind of  trembling as he told me the story. A boy who was shot by his own father and put into a coma.
"His name's Terrence. He's been in a coma for a few years now. No one's seen his father since. That asshole. I've never hated someone so much in my life like I do my Uncle."
Well, that's one way to say he's hateful. Could the client be Terrence's father.
"Terrence was like a brother to me. He was cool. It's a miracle I can actually visit him more now."
"Why?" I ask.
"He was transferred from Eastbrick Medical because of a renovation for the hospital. So I'm taking the time to visit him while I still can."
He sighed. "I'm sorry to ask you this considering we just met, but do you mind joining me? I'd feel like I wouldn't break out into tears if I'm with someone."
But he did anyway.
After about 20 minutes of him talking to the comatose boy, the waterworks started falling and he had to stop when coma boy's best friend arrived from Eastbrick to visit.
"It's nice to see you again, Reese." Travis said to him. "Well, I have to go. I have a painting to do."
He turns to me. "Thanks for coming with me."
"No problem." If this doesn't mean I've gotten closer to him, then I don't know what will.
"Bye Reese." Travis exits. I should follow.
"Bye Travis." Reese's eyes follow me. "Bye Irene."
I shut the door behind me and walk with Travis to the exit.
Homicidal uncle aside, I really doubt Travis was hateful.
Next thing in the morning, I message the client. I got the money and I do plan on getting the job done, but...
It doesn't stop me from asking questions.
"Ms. Gaitss, are you sure your target is this horrible person you claim he is? I've observed him and befriended him as asked, but he hasn't been any of the nasty stuff as you say he is."
"That's what he does. But just wait until you get a peek at that head of his. He's a man full of demons and once you get too close, he'll eat you alive."
I hope that wasn't some sort of weird implication of a bad sexual encounter. If it is, I'll try to stray from alluring the target. Sex has been used every now and then to attract the target, but if it's as bad as the client says, I may end up killing him in self defense.
I'll just have to keep an eye on him for now.

-X-
I spent the next two days learning how to play Yugioh. My boyfriend plays this game, so I had someone to turn to for the basics. Ben was all too excited to teach me via Skype that he made me virtual duel him.
I admit, it's a little fun to exercise the mind with this game. But it's a pretty stupid game if you ask me. Not to mention the memes this game's anime gives.
Card games on motorcycle. Who the hell came up with this game?
Once I've learned, I proceeded to defeat my boyfriend, putting him in a world of shame, and proceeded to buy cards at a card shop.
Friday morning, I arrive early and catch up with Karen. I'm going to miss her once I'm done. She's actually pretty fun to talk to. I sure hope no one decides to have her killed. Maybe I'll drop by every now and then once I'm done with this.
I take a booth and conveniently build my deck just as Travis was entering the diner.
Just like any nerd who finds someone playing their hobby, he perks up and immediately goes for my booth.
"So. You play Yugioh too?" He asks immediately.
"Sure!" I perk my voice up. "It's a pretty fun game."
"Maybe this is fate after all." He says. Is he flirting with me?
"I have a boyfriend." I say.
He laughs. "Yeah, I figured. Don't worry, I'm taken."
"Are you now?" Maybe the client is just an unhappy chick that her ex is happy.
Travis' eyes mellow and his smile was sorrowful. "Yeah..."
He looks up and scratches his head. "You wanna come play Yugioh with me tomorrow?"
Quick to change the subject, but I'd rather that than try to analyze that sorrow he seemed to have exuded. "Sure. It's a date."
"I'm telling your boyfriend."

-X-
I got what I expected out of going to a card shop. A bunch of manchildren and geeks huddling around tables and playing cards.
This is an expensive hobby, you know that?
I bought the cards I have that are based on a recommendation to play a meta deck for at least 300 dollars. It's like the cards are made of solid gold or something.
"Okay, Glenda. Show me what you've got." He says to me.
Travis ran a Weather Painter deck. Of course he picks a paint theme deck. What a cliche.
I went for something called a Thunder Dragon deck and proceeded to demolish his board.
When I went in for a final attack on his last monster, He played a card called Doble Passe that redirected my attack to... Oh my god I'm starting to sound like my boyfriend.
Basically he took the attack full force and I take damage too. The duel ended in a draw.
"Why let yourself take that damage?" I tell him. "You could have survived it and lasted for one more turn. Not like you'd have won though."
"I didn't want my monster to be destroyed. It didn't do anything wrong. And at least this way, we both kind of win. But take it as your win. my life points went down to 0 first anyway."
Acceptance of loss and very patient throughout the duel.
His deck aside, he wasn't annoying.
I'd really like to drop this but the client has already paid me. And I like to get my job done.
"Hey, you want to come over tomorrow and see my painting?" He says to me. "I feel like you'd appreciate it."
Tomorrow was the final day. And he's just given me access to his home.
Travis went over to the counter to talk to someone. He gave the cashier a big box he had been carrying around for a while.
"You know." I jumped up a little to find some kid suddenly sit in front of me. "I hope you don't go too soon. Travis is a pretty nice guy."
"Oh, it's--" He doesn't listen to me and goes on.
"I haven't seen Travis this happy in a while. He's been unhappy for a few months. Maybe you're the answer. The last time he had a girlfriend, she died. That was like 2 years ago. She was the only girl he ever dated."
Wait... Then... Who the hell is Vera Gaitss?

-X-
Sunday arrived. I couldn't come to Cindy's Diner considering how I'll be killing Karen's hero.
How could I face her on the day I'd kill Northbrick's pride?
I arrived at his apartment.
He smiled at me, his hazel eyes seemed euphoric upon my arrival.
"So where's this billion dollar masterpiece."
"Come in and see."
Travis let me into his apartment.
It was what I expected out of an artist. A lot of canvas and crumpled paper on the floor. His TV was on, running Sin City on HBO.
His walls were littered with paintings and posters. There was a parcel beside the laptop on his desk.
I was careful not to touch anything. My pistol was on my purse.
As Travis lead me to his painting, I was putting on my gloves. I can question morality and Vera once I've shot Travis.
"This is it." He points to a canvas with large stem painted on it. But the flower is nowhere to be found. Now's my chance.
I take my pistol out and aim. He turns to me, unfazed that I had taken out a pistol and steadied it over his head. "It's not quite done. Needs more red but I'm close to putting the finishing strokes."
"Is that really the last thing you want to do before you die?"
"Yeah." He nods, still smiling at me.
"I am pointing a gun at you." I say to him, my voice slowly rising. "Are you not even at all surprised? Shocked?"
"Why would I be?" He says. He turns the chair facing the canvas and sits. He uncorks a bottle of wine conveniently beside him and pours two glasses. He hands me one.
"This isn't a game." I tell him. I still sip the wine. It's pretty good.
"I know." He says. "Now if you can kindly place the barrel nearer to my head, please."
I don't know why, but I comply.
He places his hands around the gun. He rubs his finger around the trigger but doesn't shoot.
"Now if you can kindly pull the trigger. I'd really like to finish my painting."
"What?!" I struggle to pull the gun away but he's surprisingly strong.
"Don't worry. You'll receive your money tomorrow morning."
This was against protocol now. Clients asking to off themselves is explicitly against our code. It can be done but there is intense shame to assisting in suicide. Even assassins try to stop suicide unless it was specified to make it look like a suicide.
Suddenly it made sense. Move Vera A. Gaitss around and you get Travis Sage. Stupid!
I aced my anagram exams with flying colors. How could I have fallen for this? Was I just bored out of my wits or was I really just itching to kill someone?
"Travis, please let the gun go."
"Vera was right about me you know?" He speaks as if Vera was someone else. "I've always been selfish. I don't care about everyone else right now. I just want to leave. Do you think I haven't tried to fix my life? No matter what I seem to do I find a way to hate myself more every day. If Rene was alive, I'd think she'd probably prefer being dead than stay with an annoying prick like me."
"Stop it." I say. "This is no way to end things! You're a talented, kind, and wonderful young man."
"Empty words from an assassin." He chuckles. "I didn't hire you to be my friend. I hired you to kill me. It was a miracle I even found you. Thanos Venge wouldn't dare kill a client. And I'm not so awful to commit heinous crimes just to catch Ethel Reker's attention."
"But in the end, this wasn't a beautiful betrayal." I say. "A disgusting one at that."
"Perhaps." He looks back at the canvas. "Please... Don't try change my mind. I just want the relief of knowing when I go, the Blood Rose will be complete and it will at least immortalize the fact that I was here."
"Travis, this is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."
He sighs. "Look, I've lived my life as far as I can go and I just can't keep going. I don't want to end up living in misery. Say I have the success. Say I'm a person everyone likes. But... In the end it doesn't help stop the bleeding in my empty heart. But I'm too scared to end it myself. Make the pain end. Please."
His eyes are screaming at me. Begging at me.
I steady my hand and align my fingers with his. "Vera got one thing right. You're spineless."
He chuckles. "The world could always use more people like you."
Those were his last words.

-X-
The art exhibit to Travis' post mortem work was quiet. Gloomy.
Everyone was wearing black, admiring his work. Karen was sobbing while some of Travis' card game friends comforted her.
Blood Rose, painted with his blood was preserved and finished as per his request on one of the letters in his parcel.
Dare I say it was amazing.
Reese sat next to me. "I didn't like how he left, but I respect his decision. Terrence would have been sad to know his cousin's gone."
I sit there, silent.
"Thank you for making it easy for my cousin, Irene. I prayed that he'd get better soon. I did everything I could to try and make sure he's happy. So I was elated to find him so chipper when I came to visit. But it looks like I didn't try hard enough."
He sips a glass of his drink. "I should be mad... But it's what he wanted. I know it wasn't easy to do, but thank you."
He stands up and begins to walk away.
"How do you know my name?" I ask him. But he only continues to walk away.
He's not going to answer. I might as well leave it alone.
I stand and go over to the painting.
Blood Rose. Travis Sage's finest work.
A blood rose. Petals of his blood dripping and splattered around the canvas.
It really was beautiful.
You know what? For once, I'm mad I didn't get the credit I deserve for my art.
~Author's notes
It's been a while since I actually wrote something I really liked.
It feels good to get this out.