IMPURE LOVE (1) ✔️

Chapter 2 - Changes.

Once lunch was over, Ronnie showed me where the art studios were based and then, left for her Anthropology class. I was given a 20 x 20 canvas to work on but, I didn't know what to paint. I closed my eyes and lost myself in thought. I wanted to paint something unique however, every time I thought about something, it vanished at the thoughts of Christian. An inner voice was calling his name and demanding I paint him. Why?

Frustration. I decided to use charcoal but, I felt as if something within me, was taking control. My hand picked up the black chalk and began to scribble on the canvas. I felt paralysed. I couldn't apprehend what was happening. I glared at my right-hand scribbling lines so fast, I could hardly keep up with what I was doing. It seemed as if I was drawing a person... Christian. Although the image wasn't clear, I could recognise that jawline and the shape of those eyes, anywhere. Again, the question struck. Why? The canvas looked eerie and I was consumed with deep ponder. What the hell?

''What do we have here?'' Anna observed.

She was the art teacher and was rather amused by my work.

''Uh...'' I stammered.

''It looks marvellous. I see you decided to use charcoal and I understand why. Your drawing is indeed black and white but it seems to tell such a strong story.'' She added.

''Um, thank you Anna.'' I replied.

''So, tell us the meaning behind your drawing. Class! I want you to listen to Rose and look at what she has drawn.''

NO! How do I explain something possessed me and took control of my hand - to draw this? It wasn't me. What do I say? I thought, stressfully.

The class was filled with 'wow' and 'oh my god' at the sight of my canvas. Was it really that good? Now, I needed to fake a story...

''Um, basically, the message behind my canvas is that you can still find light and happiness through the darkness – you just need to look in the right place. That's about it.''

My heart pounded in anxiety, to the extent I thought I was going to pass out. The sudden sound of applaud sent a wave of relief through me.

''Well down, Rose. You can hand in your canvas for marking and you may go.'' The teacher told.

Silently, I handed in my canvas and thoroughly washed my hands. I left the art room, gobsmacked. It was 2.45 pm and I had more than an hour free till I met Jeremy and headed home. What am I supposed to do now? 

I strolled from hallway to hallway until I came across an empty classroom. I entered the classroom and sat at the far back. I decided to continue writing more poems/lyrics in my notebook. My notebook was a pale pink, A4 sized book with a bunch of doodles on the front and back. I mainly wrote poems/song lyrics and on other days, I would do some occasional doodles. I turned to a fresh blank page and began to write.

Deep blue crystals, dangerous yet pure,

Rouge and refined, yet sharp at their core.

A harmless beauty, naïve and captivating,

A guiltless love, now so, manipulating...

Just as I continued to scribe, my hand ached. A throbbing sensation of pure agony pulsated through me. I needed help but no one would understand. I was helpless. My hand shimmered as the scorching heat of my blood escaped my skin. This can't be happening here. My head felt viscous as my body bleated in anguish. 'Radium.' I chanted, in another language. I clutched the edge of the desk, as the pain slowly reversed itself. My pants remained rapid as my heart continued to thump in torment. It had started...