Canvas

Deux

I was breathing rapidly while going down the stairs. I didn't have the courage to let go of the handle. I might fall if I do and I don't trust my legs this time around. They felt numb, I feel numb.

My fingers, colored with paint splash, slid on the handle as I was going down each step. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead while different scenarios play in my head. Some good, but mostly bad ones.

I already have a hunch of what their reactions would be, but I am still hoping that it would change, for the better. I stopped at my tracks. The last step is in front of me. I exhaled sharply and looked at the mirror just in front of the last step.

There I saw a girl wearing a denim jacket with a white top inside. A pair of black tattered shorts and multicolored socks. A maroon hairband with a knotted ribbon on her messy boxer braided hair. Each piece of clothing has a splash of paint on them.

"This is me." I smiled. This is the sight I'll always love to see. Paint all over my body and clothes, but who cares? This is what I love to do and I love seeing myself in this messy but artistic state.

"I can do this." I balled my hands into fists and did a 'fighting' gesture.

I entered the living room with a head held high. I know what I'm fighting for and I'll do everything I can to unlock these shackles weighing me down from soaring up the sky of colors.

"Here comes my failure of a child." I heard my dad or Henry, I might say, while walking in front of them. I don't even know if he still considers me as his own flesh and blood.

I just smiled bitterly in front of them. Mom can't look at me in the eye. My older brother, Kieth, has a sad smile on his face. My cousin, Levy, raised a brow and crossed both hands in front of her chest. My grandpa together with my uncles and aunts shook their heads in disagreement. The others, though they don't have any reactions, I can feel their disdain towards me and my dream.

All the shackles attached to my whole being are here. This is great. All of them are here. I thought to myself. I'll unlock them whether they like it or not. I'll force my way out from this cage. I don't care if it hurts, as long as I get the freedom I have been dreaming for as long as I can remember.

I took a deep breath and looked at all of them, one by one. I showed them a contented smile and spread my arms for them to the artist inside me. The paints all over my body, I want them to reach each and every person here.

"This is me. If you cut this wings made from a blank canvas, paint brushes, and colors. You might as well kill me right now, with your own guns and knives. I'll gladly accept them with open arms." I looked up and closed my eyes.

I'm waiting for earth shattering pain to come my way, but nothing. Silence filled the room while a smile crept on my face. They still care, but this tradition is more important to them.

"Thank you for not literally killing me." I voiced out. I opened my eyes and look straight at my grandfather. "I'm sorry." Then to my uncles and aunts, my cousin, my brother, and lastly my parents. "I'm sorry, but I can't give up this dream. It is my life and I'd die if you take it away from me."

My father stood up and marched towards me with long, powerful strides. His face was all red from anger. He was gritting his teeth and clenched his fists. He pushed my body to the wall when I was in arms reach.

I winced in pain and heard a few bones break. The pain didn't make me back down. I looked straight at his raging eyes. I tried matching his anger with sweetness. I already know the feeling of fighting back to my parents and it haunted my consciousness since that day.

"I'm sorry, this is me. I'm a failure of a daughter to you." My eyes started to water, but I held them back. I don't want to show them how this situation is affecting me to the core. "I am breaking a long family tradition because I am trying to pursue my passion, my dream, my life, and my everything." My voice broke and I can no longer hold the tears from falling.

"You are not going to be an artist because you'll become a soldier like everyone else in this family. You'll give up your dream like how our other relatives did to continue the family tradition." He said everything with authority and conviction.

"I can't." I bit my lip to stop sobs from being heard. "I just can't." I looked at him while shaking my head from disagreement. "I can't imagine myself in a military uniform while holding a gun or a knife." I looked at my hands and smiled. Seeing the paint on them calmed me a little. "I imagine myself in my comfy clothes while holding a paint brush and a canvas in front of me." His eyes became deadly.

He distanced himself from me. I thought he's done, but a slap echoed through the silent living room. My ears started hearing a sound like the ones you hear when a person dies in a hospital. My face felt numb and my whole body froze.

"You slapped me?" I touched my cheek and it stung.

"Leave this house, this instant while I can still hold myself back." He walked out of the living room. Shivers went down my spine from the coldness of his voice. The sound of my mother's cries were heard.