His self-doubt is only a foot high, with a naked round little body, small eyes, and spindly arms and legs,Oberi told me.It’s the tiniest little thing.
Marcus stood back to view his painting. The moments ticked by, and I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He just kept on tapping his foot.
“It isn’t done,” he mumbled after a long silence. “Something’s missing.”
I stepped forward. “The way you described it, these monsters are marching toward a destination, aren’t they? They’ve got their claws out and their fangs bared like they’re ready to battle. What are they fighting, Marcus?”
Rishi meowed loudly.
Marcus drew a sharp breath. “The mural is missingme. All this time, I’ve been fighting against these monsters, which means the painting is missing the warrior. I’ve got it, Charlie!”
He clapped me on the shoulder, and wet paint soaked into my shirt. I didn’t even care. I smiled proudly as Marcus rushed to gather more paint cans that he’d sprawled across the alleyway.
“I used to be afraid of all these monsters,” Marcus started as his paint can hissed. “But I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I said trauma doesn’t make you stronger, but that doesn’t mean I’m not stronger than I was before. The trauma didn’t make me strong, but you know what did? Perseverance. Healing. Hope. I’m not there yet, but I’m sure as hell farther along than I was before.”
Marcus ran out of paint in one can and quickly tossed it aside to grab another. “I’m not afraid, because I know that if these demons haven’t consumed me by now, they never will. I’ve had the tools all along to fight them; I just didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. No, no, no… fighting isn’t the answer. That’s what I’ve been doing all this time, and it’s only worn me down. Maybe I don’t have to fight them anymore. Instead, I have to become their master. They can’t rule me anymore, becauseIrule them. I know how to direct my rage. I’m never going to get rid of her, but you know what? She’s strong because she cares, and that isnota weakness. She’s like a mother defending her children, and I can do the same. Instead of turning that rage inward or toward those I love, I can direct it toward the Warden tosavethe people I love.”
I realized then why he’d personified his rage as a woman. He saw the side of rage that was caring, kind, and nurturing— that even in the midst of battle, one could fight from a place of love.
Marcus’ footsteps disappeared, and the sound of his spray can came from high above my head. I realized he’d levitated himself off the ground to reach a higher portion of the mural. “My depression is a gift because it shows that I care, and I feel more deeply than others. Most people in this world don’t give adamn. With my BPD, I struggle with relationships because I care so damn much, and I want to be perfect for everyone. My self-doubt shows me where I can focus my energy to heal myself. It shows me the parts of me that need more love. I have so much love to give, and I’m finally ready to give it back to myself. My mental health isn’t a burden, but a tool, and I’m going to use it to make my life better and not worse.”
Oberi wagged his tail and began panting.Charlie, I see what he’s painting now! It’s all coming together. He’s painting a cat that looks like Rishi. It’s over twelve-feet tall! The cat is facing the oncoming monsters with its claws braced in the dirt. It’s baring its teeth, like it’s holding off the monsters.
Something powerful seemed to surge through the alleyway. I didn’t think it was magic, but I swore I couldfeelMarcus’ emotions coming through the painting just by hearing Oberi describe it. It was powerful art; that was for certain.
I realized that Marcus hadn’t just created a painting— he’d made Spirit Art. Ava told me some time ago that if a supernatural put enough of themselves into a creation they made, they sealed a fragment of their soul into the project that would remain attached to the piece forever.
I knew what Marcus had made now was a piece of Spirit Art, because the energy of his soul radiated powerfully off the painting he was creating. He was so immersed he didn’t even realize a part of his soul was being sealed into the design. He hadn’t tried to make Spirit Art, but it was something that happened naturally, because he put so much heart into this project.
“I’ve painted a cat,” Marcus told me. “He’s not fighting off the monsters, because he doesn’t have to. He’s standing guard, holding them off so they can’t hurt me anymore. This cat is you, Charlie. He’s all the good things I’ve had at my side all along— your friendship, my parents, Ava and Kallie and everyone who’sbeen here all this time. He’s my hope, and he’s my dreams for the future. He’s all the good things that fought the demons away.”
Marcus’ feet landed on the ground, and his spray can clinkered to the pavement. “I… I didn’t realize…”
Marcus sank to his knees as sobs broke from his chest. I knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Marcus,” I said softly. “You never had to fight this battle alone.”
He wiped the tears from his eyes. “You guys have told me that before, but I didn’t believe it until now. I thought my demons controlled me, but the real fight was between me and the cat. I wasn’t letting him defend me.”
Marcus grabbed my shirt and sobbed into it. His tears dripped onto my chest. “It’s time to set him free, Charlie! I don’t have to fight off the bad to unleash the good. I can find the goodinthe bad, and use it to my advantage.”
I clapped his back. “Yes, Marcus. That’s exactly it!”
His shoulders shook as sobs racked his body. “Finally! Finally, I can be free.”
Rishi meowed loudly, as if in warning. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate, until Marcus’ sobs came to a sudden halt. He slumped into my arms, and I realized he was passing out. I caught him before he could fall completely to the pavement and hit his head. His body jerked several times, like he was in the midst of a terrible nightmare. Marcus had fainted, and it hadn’t come with any warning.
I didn’t realize what was happening until the alleyway completely disappeared around me. An image invaded my senses.
I saw a dark,desolate landscape all around us, with rivers of lava cutting through the blackened stone. The sky above us was black, without a single star in sight. It seemed like we had entered Marcus’ painting, though I didn’t know how that was possible. I noticed the edges of my vision were hazy, like the images my grandfather projected into my mind when he was replaying a memory.
I realized Marcus was having a vision, and I’d just been sucked into it.
I looked around for Marcus, but I didn’t see him anywhere. He must’ve been close by, though, because his magic provided me with a frame of reference for the images I witnessed— filling in any gaps in my understanding of the shapes and colors that overwhelmed my senses. It was like I was viewing the vision from afar, as if I’d left my body and was hovering above the scene.
I peered down onto the dark landscape. Nothing but black rock stretched as far as the eye could see. Glowing rivers of lava flowed out of active volcanoes, and smoke billowed upward. Screams echoed in the distance, and the roar of monsters filled the air. It looked like a hellscape out of a horror story.
A shadowy figure took shape behind the steam of active geysers. It appeared as a man, walking upright on two legs, but he was larger than any man I’d encountered before. He must’ve stood at least eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. As he came closer, I saw that he wasn’t a man at all, but some sort of demon. He had the head of a ram, with thick curved horns growing out of the top of his head. His body was covered in fur, and he had long, sharp claws.
