Delphian || h.s.

1

Author Note:

yay chapter one! The picture to the side, above, where ever, is the picture that I, Siairra, saw that inspired this upcoming scene! Author's Note at the end. whoopity whoop, continue with your reading you lovely human beings

o n e

The date was May 5, 2014 and I was on my way to my favorite place in the entire world. Art class is a fantastic place. It's filled with creative minds and it smells of paint and clay. Note the sarcasm. If I wasn't such a horrible person I would attempt to pursue myself with this class. But, I couldn't give one shit about the stupid ass primary colors and the shitty ways to use your brush to paint a unique texture on a stupid piece of cardboard called a canvas. I admit, being able to paint something remotely pretty is something that I kind of envy, but this class? It's a bloody waste of my time.

Even though this class is something I'm not fond of, looking at the new set of paints that Mr. Tim puts on the wall each week is something I look forward too. Seeing the beautiful ways these artists convey themselves in their work is interesting.

I'm standing in front of this wall, with, of course, the new set of paintings tacked on for the week, when one painting in particular caught my eye as I walked into class. Cardboard pieces that are shaped like owl feathers are glued on to the canvas and red paint was strewn and splattered on the whole of it. The red paint that was all over this painting in messy flicks interested me the most. It reminded me of blood. I thought about it for a while. Seeing how this red paint that reminded me of blood was so hauntingly beautiful, I began thinking of what might have been going on in the artists mind as he or she flicked his or her wrist to create this painting. Maybe they thought about animal cruelty. Seeing as how the cardboard pieces resembled owl feathers. Maybe, they glorified animal cruelty in disguise. I wasn't sure, I wasn't the artist.

"Sutton, please come take a seat," Mr. Tim, my art teacher said to me. I sighed and walked over to my usual table. Diana, one of my classmates smiled to me and I returned the gesture. She was a nice enough person, smiled at me and helped with some of the work that I was confused with. So, I wasn't necessarily rude to her, at most times of the day.

It was explained that today's class was going to be filled with cutting stencils for us to use in our next lesson, I groaned internally. I really didn't want to do this. Then again, I never wanted to do anything. I grabbed the lovely scissors that are going to be used for cutting my stencil and chipped away at the paper, humming to myself.

"I wonder what Sutton killed today," I heard Tyler, the school's jackass say to one of his friends, loud enough for me to hear. "Was it a cat? Was it a bird? Was it a human being? I'm not sure," he then looked at me. I was throwing daggers at his face with my eyes, fury and anger building up in my veins. He smiled cockily, knowing that his words were seeping under my skin.

"Buzz off, Tyler. Go pick on somebody who cares," I snapped at him. I thought about the painting on the wall and how much I liked the red splattered paint that made me think of the crimson blood. I thought about how Tyler would look with blood seeping out of his chest if I shot him with a revolver and the screams that would sound throughout the room. I smiled to myself as the wonderful scene played in my head.

"What are you smiling about, freak?" Tyler said through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes and looked up at him, waiting for him to shoot some lame comment about how I look or how weird I am. "People whose mothers are murdered aren't aloud to smile, Sutton."

I clenched my jaw. He took this game to far. What he said was true but he should not be talking about it. It's none of his damn business. He smiled, knowing his comment got under my skin. I gripped the scissors in my hand tightly. He laughed at my building anger and opened his mouth to speak again. "You should go home to the daddy of yours that is never home," I jumped out of my seat and slammed my hand down on the table, fed up with him.