Blair | Ten Years Later

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Nothing had changed except that someone had finished the exhibit.

Blair opened her eyes slowly. She lay on the museum floor, her artwork around her, shifted from where she'd left it. Nothing glaring was missing. Her attackers were gone, though, long escaped.

The lights were off, save for a few security lights. Blair wondered if she'd slept through her grand opening, if people stepped over her, the eccentric artist who didn't get to bed in time. Did they think she was part of the show?

Her body hurt when she moved. She'd spent so much effort getting the exhibit ready, mostly on her own. The scuffle with those people hadn't been easy. She'd held a gun at some point ... Nothing had gone as planned.

Blair got to her feet slowly, the room spinning while she righted herself.

"Put on the lights. We'll take care of it," someone said.

The security lights darkened to something eerier, moodier. Framed paintings cast long shadows on the walls. An empty body outline lay at her feet. Police tape dangled from the ceiling, like decoration. A chair and a desk drawer lay on the floor in controlled chaos. Someone had added a lot to her vision — things from her house. Her furniture, her TV flickering on static, her bookshelf pouring its bounty in a static wave to the floor.

"Oh look," Erica said. "She's awake."

Blair swiveled around. "What have you done?" she asked, her voice croaking.

Erica held one of the doors closed; Nasir the other.

"We've had a word with the security guard who works overnight," Nasir said. "He got the lights for us." He picked up a weapon from the floor.

"You can't do anything to me," Blair said.

Nasir shrugged. "Maybe. All I can say is the cameras are off."


Thank you so much for reading to the end of this book

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Thank you so much for reading to the end of this book. Like I mentioned in the introduction, this novel has taken me entirely too long to finish, and I'm just happy if someone reads it now.

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