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My cheeks heat. I've never been called special for just being me. Sure, I've been called special by my monster in the sense that I was his weapon to boss around and wield however he wanted. Like now. I'm sure he has plans for me in the future.
Can I show you something?
My brows furrow when I look over the note. But I nod, my gut telling me this is a way to get closer to him. Maybe get some backup in this house.
“Sure.”
He smiles, scribbling another note.
You saw my art? I want to show you more.
My heart flutters in my chest when he takes my hand, leading me out of the kitchen.
Maybe today won't be so bad after all.
I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. Bring her into my domain and show her my life's work—paintings of her. Showing her as she sleeps and other activities. My fingers twitch when she roams around my studio with a curiosity tugging her in different directions.
Awe rests in her eyes when she stops in front of my newly finished piece, featuring a brunette curled on her side as she sleeps soundly under the moonlight.
Her.
My muse.
“This is the one I saw,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.
Of course. I watched over the security footage of our home last night as I shut myself in this room and started a new piece—something I've never painted before.
I couldn't get the images of her in the mud out of my head. Not to mention the picture Arrow threw at me with a wicked grin, knowing exactly where my mind went.
Journey West is a piece of complicated art. Tough as stone on the outside, not giving anyone a piece of her. Soft as silk on the inside, begging for someone to wrap her in their arms and take away the untold pain she's living in.
Five minutes ago, she let her fortified shield down, letting me glimpse the woman underneath.
Hurt. Broken. Fearful.
There's so much there, ready to come out. But not yet. She has to get more comfortable with us. Trust us. Before she'll even think about opening up and letting us hear her secrets.
I guess that's what I'm for. The silent giant. I have a way of coaxing secrets from within to the light of day.
Only with her, I won't use them against her. I'll covet them. Just like her.
When I held her, it was so right. She nestled into my arms, using me as a shield to take away the ache of her mother's incompetence.
Fucking Sable. That bitch doesn't deserve the title of mother for either Journey or her sister. I need more information on Sunny. I need to know why she was taken and where.
Journey wanders around this space. Her gaze eats away at the paintings littered about. Something that wasn't out the day she snooped. There's more out today. More finished pieces to see and more incomplete ones to view. Wherever my muse takes me, that's the direction I head first.
And my new muse loves a certain brunette with freckles on her nose and bright moss-green eyes.
“This one is pretty, too,” she says, cocking her head.
Her eyes eat up the incomplete night sky fit with dark shadows and tiny, sparkling stars. A project that had consumed me for weeks as I tweaked the shades, finding the perfect combination of colors to suit my vision.
I pull out my phone, opting for something other than my handwritten scribbles to give her.
“It still needs a moon,” the robotic male voice echoes through the room, garnering me her attention.
She raises a brow, knowing I can speak. But how do I explain to her that I can't right now? My vocal cords seem frozen when I try. I want to. Desperate to speak to her again. But it's stuck with anxiety at what the future holds for me and the voice that was savagely stolen from me.
