Tell Me A Lie

Chapter 12

I stared at my painting, feeling a surge or anger at image of my dad I created. He looked evil. He looked like a devil. But, it wasn't enough for me. It wasn't enough for the anger I felt burning through me after what he did yesterday.

Scowling, I felt my hands tremble. I tried to tell myself to relax as my body heated up, but that didn't work. Just like yesterday, I began to lose control just because my dad. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

In front of me lay a few paint buckets. One was filled with red, another with blue, and so on. None of those pretty coulours caught my attention though. They were too beautiful in such an ugly world. That was why I grabbed my paintbrush and swiftly dipped it into the bucket filled with black paint. Without a second thought, I then swiped my paintbrush across my dad. Smiling viciously, I felt satisfied seeing him sliced with the black ink.

With my anger still burning through me, I continued to dip my paintbrush into different shades. Not colours, but shades because that was my world. Filled with black and whites and grays that were all ugly. I smiled bitterly as I used those colours to draw slashes across my painting.

I drew a slash across my mom with white and laughed bitterly. I hated her too. Just like my dad, she was cruel. Cruel, hideous, and she deserved to rot in hell.

Looking at the house that lay behind them, I slashed it with gray paint. Once again, I chuckled bitterly because I hated that place. I hated it so much and all of the memories it carried. It was truly hell and I knew that it would always be that way.

I continued adding slashes of colours all over my painting, not thinking about anything but my hatred for everything in my life. This world was cruel and awful and I was sick of it. So sick of it and I wished that just like my painting, I could slash it viciously and let out all of my frustration. Sadly, life wasn't that simple.

Before I knew it, the canvas in front of me consisted mostly of gray paint, with some white and black streaks of paint here and there. My dad, mom, and house was barely visible behind all of those streaks, and I froze, realizing what I had done. This was a class assignment yet I ruined it. With rash feelings, I had ruined what was supposed to be a beautiful peice of art that represented my feelings.

I slunk down in my seat, suddenly ashamed of myself. I had always thought I had control over my feelings, but it turned out I was wrong. What I just did was acted on anger and rash decisions, and despite everything in my life that was never who I was. I was cool, calm, and collected, but it seemed like I wasn't anymore. Jai was right, eventually I would wear out.

Shaking my head, I dropped my paintbrush into a bucket and hugged myself. Right now, I hated myself. I hated myself and the way I was acting. This wasn't who I was.

"Scarlett."

I jumped, startled by someone disrupting my brooding. As I looked up, I saw Jared standing before me. He looked solemn as he stared at me, and I looked away quickly. I didn't want to talk to him right now.

"Hey, Scarlett," Jared said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said flatly.

"You don't look fine."

"I want to be alone." My voice turned into a whisper as I looked back at him with pleading eyes.

Jared stared at me for a second, studying me. I didn't know how, but I just stared back at him. I guess it was because I hoped he would understand that I wanted him gone by seeing the pleading in my eyes.

Jared didn't.

He walked to my side and my eyes widened as he stared at my ruined painting. My mind roared with thoughts of hiding the painting or even destroying it so he wouldn't see what I created, but then I also wanted to know what he thought. Seeing how his eyes seemed glued to the painting and his facial expression was so serious, I couldn't help but be curious to what he thought.

"Scarlett," Jared said after a bit, still staring at my painting. "I think you have a talent."

"What?" I asked, stunned.

I would never have expected that response. Honestly, I expected him to tell me that this wasn't what he meant by acting on your feelings.

"Look at this painting," Jared said, smiling at me suddenly. "It's beautiful."

My jaw dropped. Jared was insane.

"Are you serious?" I asked. "I ruined my painting."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This wasn't supposed to be my painting." My voice turned desperate - helpless. "I was mad and I just lost control and I started drawing random streaks all over my painting. I acted on feelings wrongly and this mess of a painting is what's left."

Jared looked back at my painting and he studied it for a bit more. I decided to look back at my painting too. It was a mess to me. With nothing but black, white, and gray streaks tearing across an image that used to be, it was a complete mess.

"Scarlett, the most beautiful images are usually created on rash decisions," Jared said, looking back at me. "I mean, look at your painting. Really look at it, I mean. Those colours represent the hell that is incorporated behind those three things you drew. They represent the darkness and the light that turns out to be mostly gray. A nothingness, which is what these three things have created in this world."

I studied my painting again, trying to see what he saw. The painting was mostly gray due to the black and white paint mixing here and there. There were a few black and white colours, and those were on my parents. I scoffed at the fact that my mom had white paint on her. There was nothing light about her.

But staring at the painting and thinking about what he said, I understood where he ws coming from. This painting was a mess, but it was my life. My life that was filled with darkness and nothingness and hell. Even though this painting was made by accident, this was the realest thing I ever saw.

"You're right," I said after a bit. "Oh my god. I understand."

"You see Scarlett." Jared smiled at me. "Art isn't always about skill and how beautiful the image looks. Sometimes, art is about representation and showing how one person sees the world."

I nodded, amazed by his wisdom when it came to art. A part of me also hoped he didn't get the hint that this was my life, but I tried to ignore that nagging part of me. The fact that my rash actions made something beautiful had demolished any anger I felt and now I was left with a calm, relaxed feeling.

"Thank you," I said to Jared, glancing up at him. "You're a genius."

"No, I'm not a genius." He grinned at me. "I just really love art and you my friend, have a talent in it."

I couldn't help but smile, touched by those words. I also loved art, but I also knew I wasn't a talented person. The fact that Jared thought I was meant a lot and suddenly, I forgot about my dad. I forgot about everything that happened yesterday, and I grinned. For the first time, I thought about a future that didn't involve me remaining in the house I called hell.