Splattered Paint - Dan Howell

Splattered Paint

Darcy's P.O.V 

I was home alone, Dan and Phil had going to the BBC and this time I was sure they weren't lying. I didn't have much to do whilst there and I actually wanted to get some painting done. I sat in front of my easel which I had previously set up. My equipment was ready, sorted neatly beside me and it was only a matter of seconds before the picture I had printed off of Dan at the park was pinned on the wall in front of me. I had another on my lap to see the fine details.  

First I sketched out the drawing to scale, sitting back to check my progress every few minutes. When I got to Dan, I made sure to get his perfect dimples. They were one of the many things I adored about him. His features just added to his beauty and that was partly why I loved him so much. I couldn't hold back a huge grin as I had finished his sketch. I stood back and realised it was ready to start painting. Deciding to start with the sky and background of the picture, I collected the right colours and squeezed small dollops onto my pallet. I took my favourite brush and was quick to create the greyish colour. I quickly leant over the canvas started my first stoke.  

I continued, doing the entire sky before starting the trees and the pond behind Dan. The water had taken a long time to get correct and I was proud of my result. I notices some of the trees were slightly orangey and it only took seconds for me so splodge some red, yellow and black on the pellet I held. As I squeezed the red paint tube, my body jolted slightly. What just happened? I brushed it off, probably just a chill or something.  

I only then did I  notice that I had poured WAY too much red on the pallet, it was oozing into the black. Suddenly an image of red flashed in my head. I gasped and held the now red covered brush tightly in my fist. My heartbeat was increasing rapidly and it wasn't long before another image flashed in my head. I tried to fight them off, my fisted palms becoming sweaty and white. I found myself staring into space as tears started forming in my widened eyes. My breathing hitched as I began to shake. I kept seeing Flashbacks of the red covered walls from my time in the concrete room in my head. It was like a collage of nightmares flooding through my mind. I staring whimpering, my hand subconsciously meeting the canvas, a giant splodge of red growing on the unpainted sketch of Dan. It was like I was reliving all the torture and pain from those four years in a matter of minutes. Memories of the kidnapper hurting me made me scream. I was in agony.  

I dropped the brush to the ground, and started pulling at my hair, now fully screaming. I was sobbing and gasping each time a different memory made its way into my mind. My gaze was changed as I fell off my chair, my shaking becoming more violent as I stared at nothing in particular. I was trying to push the thoughts away but they crowded my head, making it throb painfully. My hands were pulling at my hair tighter by the second, anything to take away the mental pain I was experiencing. ANYTHING! My screams became louder as more memories bashed at my mind. I was losing the battle of fighting them off. I was losing control of myself. They were taking over me.

I tried thinking of anything else. Dan and our walk in the park or Phil or anything that would stop my sudden mental attack but the horrifying thoughts just became more and more vivid. I could hardly cope anymore, it was too much for my weak brain to handle. I was being forced by myself to remember every punch, ever kick, every slap. I was being forced by myself to look at every inch of abuse I received. And at that moment, I wanted nothing more to die. I just wanted it to end. I wanted to kill myself so I started scratching up and down my arms with my hand. I even tried strangling myself but my arms were shaking too much for it to be affective. The agony I was going through in my head was clearly overpowering the physical pain I was inflicting on myself. It wasn't working and eventually I gave up, resorting to grabbing my head and squeezing it in attempt to get rid of my traumatic past. It wasn't working.