Not he who wiped my hopes away as I wish to wipe his stain away. Not he who stole that blank canvas from me and left it soaked in red. Red. Red. Red.
The red is slowly dripping from his canvas, his crime will be revealed. He will no longer do harm, for his 'artwork' will be destroyed. His predatorial instincts will be put to shame.
Do you know why?
I shall tell my story, open it up for all to place their burning gaze upon...
YOU ARE READING
I Am His Canvas
Short StoryThis a story I wrote for an English language exam. The prompt was "Write about witnessing a crime"; I am very proud with how it turned out. //TW for rape.
