Page 34 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

“FUCK YOU!” I scream, picking up anything I can and smashing it against the wall.

My knees buckle. The hunger... the pain... the guilt drowns me.

And I see stars. Followed by Ren. Then the room spins—and it’s all black.

The void consumes me.

Chapter Eighteen

Ren

My pencil finishes making the final traces, stopping right on Byron’s face. I focus on the look on his face—so many emotions on display, none that I can recreate. Not like him, but my pencil can. Or at least immortalize it. I put the pencil and sketchbook down, focusing on a sleeping Byron. The emotional and psychological toll on his body hit its limit and crashed him out.

But he is surviving me. He should be proud. I know I am. But now I need to nurse him back to health if I want to keep playing. I didn’t lie to him when I said he intrigued me. Like him killing hisfriend—lover—whatever blue-eyes meant to him. That was totally unexpected, but totally welcomed. I can’t deny the feeling of satisfaction that crept up my body when his hand sliced open blue-eyes’ throat and covered his palm in crimson. Even if it was only for pity, it was a start. Which means he’s learning. But let’s push him harder... let’s see how much he can take.How much will he let me take?

I stand from my spot and walk out of the studio and down the hall to my room to grab the burner phone. Flipping it open, I call the only number in its storage.

“Yo,” Kevin’s voice booms through the speaker, irritating my nerves. “How can I help?”

“Any idea how to set up an IV? Also, where did you leave the medical supplies for emergencies?”

He laughs, barky and annoying, causing me to roll my eyes. “Breaking your toys already?”

I don’t answer. Hopefully, my silence tips him off that I’m not in the mood for a chat. This is business. A simple transaction.

“In the kitchen, under the sink. Red bag,” he answers.

“And the Rose?” I ask as I make my way out the room and toward the kitchen. He chuckles again.

“Not wilting yet, but she’s not buying the texts. She’s worried about her big brother, wants to go see him.”

Using my shoulder to prop up my phone, I open the steaming pot holding a chunk of meat—my pot roast for tonight’s dinner —and add in the potatoes and celery that were already chopped up on the counter. I smile. I actually like domesticated life. Creating, fucking, and eating—what more could I ask for?

Someone who is here for me. The real me, not the illusion. Byron could have simply killed me plenty of times, but he chooses not to. He chooses me, even if he hasn’t acknowledged it yet. His mistake was not choosing me sooner.

“Okay, so get her distracted. Fuck her, knock her up.”

He laughs harder. “How’s it going for you? Has he denounced his light and become your brainlessfuck toy?”

Anger causes me to stop, wishing Kevin was here so I could kill him and filet him like a fish. Not to eat... not to immortalize... but just because.

“Just keep her off my trail. How’s the outside?” I ask. I try to stay away from watching TV. If I’m not creating, I’m reading some horror novel or texting with Johnathan pretending to be Byron. But now my choices are limited now that I’m a fugitive of the law and blue eyes dead. But the walls are closing in and I’m running out of time. Killing Johnathan was a fatal mistake—one that will most likely lead the cops directly to me. So Byron needs to make a choice, or I’ll be forced to make it for him. It’s just easier.

“How long are we going to keep this up for?”

Annoyed, I open the door to the cabinet under the sink. “Shouldn’t take much longer. Then you should have your money, and I’ll disappear.” With that, I grab the bag. “I got the bag. Now what?”

“You grab the butterfly needle, tape, IV lines, and saline bag. Hang it somewhere, find a vein, and you’re a smart man, so the nextstep you should be able to do on your own,” he says, and I end the call, walking back toward the studio.

Byron’s breaths come in fast. Small sniffles escape his body, shaking it. He looks pathetic. Nothing like the Byron I first met. The violent offender, walking through life like everyone should be punished. Like a feral animal.

Placing the bag of supplies on the floor and walking over to him, I haul up half of his body. Noticing his missing body muscle and how much thinner he is, stirs something in me.

I walk him toward my room, place him in my bed and just watch him for a moment. His eyebrows knit together, his body twitches. My finger lightly brushes over his cheek as if I can chase away his demons. I wanted to be his only torment.Poor Byron.Tortured in his waking moments and in his sleep, so much like me.

So why won’t he let me help? I’m giving him the cure, but he resists taking it.

Walking from the room, I retrieve the bag and then return to my room. My eyes look at the black screen ofthe TV in the room, tempted to see what’s going on in the outside world. To see what is the latest on the manhunt for Laguna Bay Painter. It’s only a matter of time now. I’ve been reckless, but there’s no going back. I gotta finish what I started. I also gotta deal with Kevin, but Byron is more important. I think he’s learning—or at least coming to the same conclusion.

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