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Safe to say, my masterpieces don’t compare to the decent but not-so-special statues I made before.
Things that were called ‘marvelously stunning,’ ‘achingly beautiful,’ and ‘brutally captivating’ pale in comparison to my new creations.
So, I might have gone a bit overboard and instead of producing one masterpiece, I have a few.
Or more like thirty of them.
The subject and the exhibition’s name?The Mystery of a Muse.
Statues of Mia fill out the gallery. For the first time, the subject of my obsession and addiction is revealed to the general public or anyone who’s not a staff member.
I stand in the corner, watching everyone falling head over heels for my genius and the reason behind my genius.
The muse whose existence I didn’t believe in until I was trapped by her forever.
The muse who filled up the emptiness so thoroughly, it’s become impossible to picture a world whose center she doesn’t occupy.
Mum was the first one who told me that my art finally has a soul, and I can see exactly why. Before Mia, I didn’t have a soul, and while some might argue that I still don’t, the truth is, I could only find my drive after Mia came into my life.
I needed a way to translate those feelings and unleash them onto the world so they could see how much she means to me. It might also have to do with the fact that I wanted to announce irrevocable ownership so everyone sees that she’s fucking mine and no one gets any funny ideas.
The statues filling the gallery are of Mia in different situations. The day I first met her after I brutalized her cousin’s car. The day I cornered her in the bathroom and she bathed me with blood. The day she kicked me in the nuts because of her adorable jealousy. With a flower in hand. In front of a field of her named arseholes that she sometimes gives more time than me. On the day of her graduation. The day she screamed my name for the first time—secretly my favorite moment.
However, my favorite statue is the one I chose as the main theme of this event. The piece I spent two years perfecting.
The piece everyone gawks at like it’s their custom-made god.
A giant statue of Mia stands in the middle of the gallery. She’s wearing her gothic dress and boots. Ribbons interlace her hair and her eyes stare at nothing. Her lips are sewed shut with stitches. The stone dips under each one, looking painful and deep and impossible to undo.
Two large wings blossom from her back, leaving gashes in the stone. One of them stands proud, but the other is crooked, broken, and half fallen. Red is splashed on the edges—her virginal blood that I got on a canvas two years back.
She holds out both her middle fingers. Like she did that day she let me chase her and showed me the side of her that spoke my language fluently.
The world is caught in a chokehold by my favorite—and possibly my only—masterpiece.
But not more than me.
I found myself in complete awe of my creation after I finished it. And, in a way, I experienced a strong sense of emptiness at the thought that I was done. My only solace is that I can make more masterpieces as long as I have Mia.
The woman in question appears by my side, her eyes blindfolded, guided by Bran and Glyn.
And she’s wearing a blue dress.
A color she reserves only for super precious occasions.
My art exhibitions belong on that list.
She’s snatched Mum’s position and has easily become my number one cheerleader. She just graduated and is ready to start working on her businesswoman dream, but she still models for me and pouts so adorably when I say she can’t see what I’m working on.
“Where are we going? Glyn? Bran?”
My siblings grin and give me the thumbs-up before they join Mum, who’s fighting tears as she gives a few interviews. Dad is by her side, looking proud and content. Let’s just say my decision to stop bugging my siblings for sport has improved things dramatically within the family.
Turns out, I was the problem and the drama king. Shocker, I know.
But anyway, this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“Bran?”
