the artist → muke

t e n

please read AN at the end :)
warning: this sucks

"we are proud to welcome luke hemmings with his collection of deeply emotional paintings. before we open the exhibit, we'd like to have him share a few words with you all today." luke observed the plump well dressed man who was standing next to him as he introduced luke. there were maybe three hundred people in the exhibit right now, all allowed in only by invitation. the event would be open to the public later.

"well thank you, steven." luke gave the crowd a glamorous smile. "today i share with you an exhibit of disturbingly real paintings. paintings displaying loss, pain, bullying, mistreatment, and depression. these subjects are very real, and i've tried to depict them in a way that shows the true destruction they cause to people. today, we honor all of those who have struggle with situations like these."

the crowd applauded politely, and luke gestured for everyone to make their way into the exhibit.

their reactions were always the same. open-mouthed stares at the depictions of gore. people were drawn to all of the paintings.

people were especially inquisitive on luke's most recent piece, "broken home". the painting of michael.

a group of people were surrounding luke, asking about it.

"i learned about this character from a friend. he would be the kind of guy you never really noticed. he wouldn't try to draw attention to himself. he'd be humble, and kind. he'd be careful not to say anything to make people think bad of him, because that's what happened to him his whole life. his whole life he'd be beaten down by the lack of love from his parents. their cruel words. he felt so alone, and his fear of making it any worse bound him down. nothing could stop the pain."

the people around him would nod, and they'd leave him be.

luke stared up at the painting hanging on the wall of michael. his eyes looked so real. he could feel michael's fear and sadness through the painting. as if michael was truly staring down at him.

"i didn't want to kill him, i had to," luke thought to himself.

the exhibit was probably one of the best one of luke's exhibits had ever opened. people were captivated by his paintings, taking time to cherish the stories they told.

and the funny thing was, no one knew their support of his work just fueled him to kill even more innocent people.

♢

karen and daryl clifford took the first flight they could to new york when calum texted them back saying that michael never called him.

they got to michael and calum's dorm as quickly as they possibly could, meeting calum for the first time. all of them were distraught beyond compare.

"you're saying he didn't communicate with you at all?" karen pleaded to calum, who just shook his head. calum felt like this was all his fault.

it wasn't.

they all spent the next twenty minutes on a subway to brooklyn, making their way soon after to the rusty bridge. they had no clue that if they only walked two blocks south west that they would find a house down an alleyway with a dumpster that contained michael's body.

they didn't, until calum remembered that michael had insisted that they both sign in for 'find my iphone' on each other's devices.

"i always lose my fucking phone because i bring it everywhere," michael had said, "it's for my own good."

"if michael has his phone with him, as he always does, we'll find him. we'll find him." calum nodded with a small smile of hope on his face.

he opened the app, and saw that it said that michael's phone should only be two blocks away.

"my baby's two blocks away," karen whispered, and they all immediately began walking in the direction of michael's phone.

they passed by the alleyway three times before even realizing there was a house down there, and that's where the tracker was leading them.

daryl observed the cast iron gate before looking to the speaker thingy on the side of the fence. he pressed the call button gently, as if it would break under his fingertips.

"i'm not seeing anyone right now." a cool, calm, and collected voice spoke on the line. "please come back later."

"sir," karen called. "we're looking for our son. michael clifford. college student, colored hair."

silence flooded the line.

"we have no such person here. sorry."

"we tracked his phone through 'find my iphone'. i'm pretty sure he's here," calum rolled his eyes. "please."

"i don't know what to tell you."

and the line went dead.

♢

they would never know exactly what happened to michael. they would never know about luke hemmings, or his gory paintings that depicted things he'd done. they would never know how michael died, or why he died. they would never see how much he truly loved and cared about all of them despite how he was treated.

it's true what they always say: no one appreciates what they have until it's gone.

♢

heyyy whoA it's over ?
{or is it ?}
basically im going to be gone until saturday,
so im updating all my stories yay :)
but in all seriousness, theres probably gonna
be an epilogue and yeah

sorry this kinda sucked and yeah :(

basically luke is a crazy dude who needs psychological help

please recommend this story to your friends
& check out my other stories :)