STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.81. Powerful

"There is a poem

scratched onto the walls of my throat.

no one had heard it

but it is there."

- Kai Cheng Thom

. . .

Leyla

I watched as Astrid played the piano. Apparently, Xerxes had been teaching her. She had just started out and she was determined to learn more. Gabriella was cooking in the kitchen with Zavier. It was fun to watch a thirty three year old man try to calm himself down as a fifteen year old cursed at everything in sight.

I walked out of the burnt room, not sure why exactly it had not been repaired. I walked to where I knew Olivia's studio was. I knocked lightly on the door.

Leona opened.

"Hey, Leyla. Come in." That was Olivia. She was standing Infront of a large canvas, wiping her brushes. Leona stepped aside so that I could enter.

"Hey..." The studio was beautiful with finished and half finished canvases lining the wall. There were a few clothes scattered around. Brushes, paints and everything. The walls were painted, the right had a pharaoh painted in Egyptian style, the left had flowers painted on it in a way which reminded me to renaissance paintings, and the wall right in front of me was all windows, windows which had been painted too so the sunlight which came into the room was coloured with a billion colours.

"Can I stay in this studio forever?"

Olivia grinned. "Of course. This is Elena Foster-" She motioned to a woman sitting on a chair with a file in her hands. The woman looked up as if startled. She was beautiful with her curly brown hair and paper white skin. Her wide green eyes looked at me through the clear barrier of her glasses. She was dressed in a full body covering green overall. "My new assistant. Elena, this is my step sister - Leyla Campbell."

She stood up. She was taller than me. She shook my hand, grinning in a sort of embarrassed way. "It's so nice to meet you, Miss Campbell."

"You too, Miss Foster. Call me Leyla."

"Elena." She smiled, dropping my hand.

Leona picked up a mixing tray. "Where are my brushes?"

"In the drawer, mom." Olivia walked a few steps away from the canvas, looking at it thoughtfully.

Was I envious of Olivia's ability of doing magic with her hands? Yes. I had always been. But I had seen her grow, too. She had not always been this good. She had put in the work - a lot of it. Now, she was a world famous artist and fashion designer.

I sat down on a couch, picking up a book nearby. The metamorphosis.

"Have you read it?" Leona asked me.

I shook my head. "No, But I do own the book."

"It's remarkable," Olivia said, her brush working on the canvas. "Have you read his love letters? Those are truly remarkable."

"Who's love letters?" Zavier entered the studio with a tray in his hands, followed by Samuel Creed who looked a lot like Xerxes but with weaker features. Zavier sat the tray down on a table and I looked at the brownies on it. Astrid shot inside the room.

"Brownies!"

Zavier grabbed her. "Wash your filthy hands first."

She sighed. "You're mean. He's being mean, Olivia."

Olivia chuckled, her brush again working on the canvas. I could not tell what exactly she was making. "Wash your hands, Astrid. You can eat as much as you want after that."

Astrid huffed and walked out of the studio. "Everyone is mean here."

I looked out of the window wall. The couch I was on was pressed to it. The world seemed so colourful from here. The windows had random patterns made on them with different colours. I had once tried glass painting when I was in High school. I had painted one window at our home after that. Something father lost his shit over.

I set my head against the backrest, closing my eyes.

"Are you sleepy?" It was Elena who had asked me that. I looked at the new assistant.

I shook my head. "No. Not really."

She smiled. "You...You are beautiful."

"Thank you. You are, too. I adore your hair."

"I love your tattoo...it's very meaningful."

There was silence in the studio when she said that. Everyone had looked at the tattoo but no one had mentioned anything about it. They were not being awkward, they just didn't know how fragile I was about what had happened.

But I didn't feel fragile anymore.

"Yes," I said to Elena. "It is meaningful."

She pulled the sleeve of her overalls up. My eyes widened at the tattoo there. It was a medusa, made in a different way, but it was her. Elena smiled at me. "Not as beautiful as yours but as meaningful, I hope."

I shifted closer to her. There were scars on her arm, visible only when one was close. "It is beautiful." I took her hand in mine, squeezing once. "And as powerful."

. . .