NOELLE

I dipped the paintbrush back into the indigo colored acrylic and added a new touch of hue to the plain portrait. I trace the black pen line on the paper, curving in the boy's lips, going down to his chin, making it fall to his Adam's apple and then to his collarbones. I finish tracing his outline and pick up a new wider brush to fill in his body. I fill in the blue-purple lines with black and smother his hands with dark red. I fill in his full eye lashes and perfect the hem of his shirt. I blur the background with gray, making the boy in the painting look as if he was emerging from the dark.

Finally, I put the finishing touches to make his bright green eyes, mixing white and green together, making them the main attraction of the portrait. I step back and admire my work, smiling at the now finished male. I wrote my signature at the bottom,

Noelle 2/1/1991

I take the depiction off of the wall and carry it outside to the backyard to dry. I smiled to myself, thinking of what my boyfriend, Brandon, would say about it. I escorted myself back inside and turned on the radio, grinning when my favorite song came on. I strolled to the living room and turned on the TV, swaying to the music.

Suddenly, I jumped when I heard a large bang. My eyes widen when I realize that it came from the inside of the house. "Brandon? Is that you?" I yell, hoping for an answer. "Brandon?" I make my way up the steps and cringe as a foul smell of metal hits my nostrils. My heart rate quickens as I approach the bathroom door, slowly turning the knob.

Brandon was standing with his back to the door, my beating heart slowed. "Brandon! You scared me, I thought you were a robber or some-.” I stop talking suddenly as he slowly turned to me. I catch a glimpse at his bloody jaw hanging from his face. My body shook at the sight of him as he fully turned to me. He tried to speak, but only a flood of black-red liquid came out. I stumbled back and I reached for my phone trying to dial 911 as Brandon took slow steps towards me. I rushed back to the wall by the stairs as he approached me. He was now inches from me, he gurgles something then raised the gun to my heart.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Fear fills me as well as darkness

"Hello?"

I feel the cold tile touch my cheek and my dark blue hair surround my face as blood pools around me. I close my eyes and fall into my last sleep.

And then, I wake up.

“Harry, you need to keep it a secret.”

“Harry, what you’re doing is bad.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I forcefully snapped out of my thoughts and focused on the road. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, it was hurting me again. I could still see her face in my brain, the look she gave me when she saw me. Her blonde hair whirling around her face as she ran away from me and her scared brown eyes looking straight into mine. That night cursed me, it was the only actual hurt I’ve ever experienced from someone that I truly loved. I thought I was going to pass out and get myself into a car wreck if I didn’t stop thinking about it that was the whole reason I move so far away. To get her out of my head but I guess it wasn’t working.

I followed the real estate lady’s white car in the rainy streets. We came closer and closer to the, as she described, big gray house. That was the only information she could give me “big”, “gray” and “house”. So much description, I know. Almost makes me want to cry by how beautiful it sounds.

I stepped into the old house and smelled the dust that inhabited it.

"Well, this is the last house that's in your budget, Mr. Styles." The real estate lady announced as we entered through the front door. I looked at the colored glass windows and chandeliers that hung above; the dusty and moldy looking walls made me cringe with disgust. "I’m guessing the previous owner didn't like cleaning." I verbalized, trying to lighten the mood. The real estate lady looked at me and gave a fake laugh. I didn’t really care whether she thought it was funny or not, I just wanted to distract myself from buying this house. It was disgusting, other than the expensive look to it on the outside.

The tall and narrow woman showed me the most important parts of the house, it was bigger than I expected it to be actually. The whole house looked like an overpriced mess. I didn’t like the look of it, it was very old and big, like the houses you see in a magazine but only dusty and with paint-chipped walls.

We approached the main room. The woman turned to me. "I guess I should tell you what happened to the previous owners." She said as she walked around the room and touched the peeling wall paper. Her brown eyes flickered to me, I could tell what happened to the owners before me before she even said it just by the looks of her facial expression. "They were a sweet couple, only about 23-24, both committed suicide in this room." She gave me a sorry look as she most likely waited for me to turn down the offer for the house.

"I’m guessing that's why it's halve the price." I smiled politely, trying to avoid the awkward tension in the room. I let the fact that I’m basically standing on a death bed sink in before asking, “Why did they do it?” She glanced at me, raised an eyebrow and gave a small laugh. “Well, I don’t know why they did it, I've only been in this house a hand full of times.” She cleared her throat before nodding and asking, “Well, do you want to continue the tour or do you want to carry on to the next house?” I thought for a minute, I already didn't like her attitude, the way she sarcastically delivered her words was atrocious. I gave her a small grin, trying to be as polite as I could to this woman then said, “Might as well, I wouldn’t want to waste the trip coming here.”

She nodded and escorted me towards the hallways. I followed behind her, awkwardly putting my hands behind my back. "This is one of the bedrooms, there's three of them." I walked to the unmade bed and patted it, watching the dust jump and make a cloud around my hand. I cringed ‘Do these houses ever get cleaned?’ I asked myself. The room was light pink, the ceiling was faded white. The vintage looking furniture surrounded a bed with and old ripped canopy.

I looked at the gray-white ceiling and saw black taped X’s. “What are those?” I questioned as I pointed to the obvious markings.

“Oh,” She said with a surprised look. “I’ve never noticed those, I’ll have them taken down when we leave.”

I furrowed my eye brows at the brunette, she smiled at me nervously before clearing her throat and asking, “Would you excuse me for a moment? I have to use the bathroom.” I stood up from the dusty bed and mumbled” I wouldn’t mind.”

She made her way out of the room as I slowly examined the rest of the small area. I came across to a faded coral colored vanity. The once clear and expensive mirror was now scratched up and had strange blue stains on the desk part, I pondered at the dark mysteries. ‘Is that hair dye?’

The blonde female walked back into the room, interrupting my new discoveries.

“Shall we continue into the other rooms?”

We strolled through the rest of the house afterwards, I noticed the real estate woman didn’t know a lot about this house, but that wasn't important. “So, are you planning on buying the house?’

I rationalized for a moment.

“Might as well.”

‘

“Harry, you’re hurting me.”

“You can’t do this anymore.”

“I’m leaving you.”

My body jolted up as I regained my breath, the precious need for oxygen filled my black tar lungs once again. My veiny hand came to my chest as I clutched the fabric that caressed the ivory white skin the shielded my bones. I staggered to the left side of the bed to grab onto the effeminate being that once laid beside me to only find a bundle of pillows and warm blankets. I clutched onto the fleshy mask that was bound to my head and let the salty rivers that fell from my eyes flow out in-between my fingers. The hot hatred I felt in my tightened chest was not the best feeling. The terrible sting that I endured was touching my heart as I stood from the bed and slowly stumbled to the doorway. With sleep still gathered in my eyes, I gently made my way down the stairs and into the main room.

My nightmare had me terror-struck. The thoughts of her long blonde hair petrified me now. I can’t think of her pear-shaped figure without tearing up. I can see her small stretch marks on her sides and around her navel, I can see her small lips forming into a smirk, and I can see her leaving out of the door. My hands shook as I sat on the fake leather couch and dug in-between the cushions. I pulled out the small baggie and eyed the white powder that it contained. I poured it out onto the coffee table and laid it into a line, taking the small straw out of the miniature sack. I looked at the multi-colored straw. It had helped me so many times like this, I could already feel the addicting dripping feeling at the back of my throat. I felt the high hit me in no time.

The excitement rushed through me as I snorted more. I felt the energy and the happiness flow through me. All of the thoughts of her, ran from my head and hid. Her body, her creamy beautiful body sent shivers down my spine, while her jade eyes resembled a peacock's feathers, beautiful and alive. It may sound as if I’m preventing myself from moving on, but it’s like I can’t breathe. She was my sun, my moon, and my stars all in one. She was my knowledge and my goals, the beauty within myself, but now that’s all gone. I feel lifeless and dead. I feel as if she’s not with me, then she can’t be with anyone else.

She mine, all mine. From her hair to her toes; she’s the one for me. But, I understand that she is not a possession. She a human being and she has choices and she decided to leave me for what I’ve done. I regret all the things I’ve done to scare her, her face when she found me killed me inside. I remember grabbing onto her wrist, begging her not to go. Her screams flooded my ears as she tore from my grip, her hair whipping in different directions as she stumbled from me and ran. She cried so much because of me and I hate it. I don’t want to be the reason for her tears I want to be the reasons for her smiles and giggles and such.

I want to be her everything again. I don’t want to be a crack head, serial killer anymore.