Chapter 65: Chapter 65

Maya waited impatiently, even as she heard the doorknob turn, to resist the urge to take a little peek of where they went she placed her palm over her face.

She understood that he didn't want her to know where his treasure laid so she didn't go there all the time hence the blindfold but damn, the wait was Killing.

The smell of paint hit her nose even before he lightly shoved her and then removed the blindfold from her eyes.

In split seconds her eyes was adjusting to the light in the room. Pale grey walls, windows that showed off the city but she could tell the pedestrians didn't have the same luxury.

Her eyes then landed on the paintings hung on the wall. Her legs made their way to them before she could stop herself, her fingers tracing one of the pictures of a boy writhing in his bed, underneath it lay hands clawing on his neck more like a Dropbox exposing his horrifying dreams.

Maya turned to meet his gaze not knowing what to make of that, her eyes took in another painting.

Intricately patterned was a tiny lining beneath it, swirling dark thoughts, that seems like a suicide note.

On it was a battered body in a pool of blood. Eyes were closed and fingers tightly held a knife, blade clawing into palm and producing Blood.

She bet her face was that of horror, even as she unveiled the third painting, a bird whose wings are chopped and watched other birds soar, melancholy she could feel from the picture felt so real, she gasped.

She withdrew her fingers immediately like they were coal of fire.

"Your grandma drew this?" Her eyes were wide not finding a semblance of the horrifying artwork she saw to the dreamy frame in the sitting room.

Her eyes met another image, a woman constricted to the bed, a man looming over her, his legs in-between hers.

And if she didn't look really well, she would have missed the silhouette of a little boy in the shadow.

She stared at the man on top of the bed, he looked familiar. Mr. Dominic.

She turned to meet Xavier's gaze, he knew she had understood. "These ain't your Nonna's painting right?" He shook his head slowly. "These are yours."

It wasn't a question but still, he nodded.

She glanced at another picture, another picture of a battered body but now, the body held a blade.

"Mom's second suicide attempt. I had seen her early in her bathtub. The warm bubbly bath was already now red, her blood flowing out of her hand without restraint."

She unveiled another picture, the welt of a belt on a man's back.

"First time, I tried to defend mum." His eyes were so distant.

So she unveiled another, believing that it was the worst but seeing another that horrified her even more, and the backstory that he provided didn't even help matters.

Visions of black shadows, brush portraying dried blood, and an air of sadness.

She stopped at a picture of a butterfly escaping an aquarium, "The day I left home." That was the last picture he had.

She turned to meet his gaze but something else caught her attention, a recently dipped brush in paint.

She moved towards it and noticed a canvas veiled.

"Don't," she turned a bit startled at how on the edge he had sounded.

He let out a little smile, "It's kind of unfinished and so private."

She nodded.

They both stayed in the room, Maya at a loss of what to say and Xavier wondering what was going on in her mind and if she was about bolting for the door and screaming psycho because that will be the sanest thing anyone will do if they see images like this with you posing as an artist.

But he should have known Maya wasn't sane because she reached for his hand, "I understand that this was a medium for you to express yourself, a chance for an outburst you didn't dare voice out but __" she glanced at the covered recent canvas, a nervous laugher escaping her lips, "It is a little bit dark and scary."

He nodded.

"But that's your own out... Your voice and I won't judge you," he brushed a stray hair from her face, his eyes on hers.

"But you can talk to me if it gets that real tough okay?"

He nodded, his hands still on one of her hair locks which he studied.

"I really did feel everything I tried to represent in the picture. It was dark, lonely and I was just a child!"

"Not anymore Xavier and you are not alone too. In case you haven't noticed the invasion in your private space and your stocked fridge which kinds of makes you notice I am here, then you should have noticed the annoying thum thum of my flip flops." He smirked.

"Real annoying."

"Only the best for you Xavier, besides I seek to impress." She curtsied playfully and he smiled.

"You are not alone anymore Xavier. I'm here."

Blue clashed against brown in the studio where they were surrounded by hundreds of pictures rows by rows, a testimony of how damaged he was yet she stepped into his arms, and though she didn't know or remember who had locked each other in an embrace, she remembered crouching down on her knees alongside him, while they just stayed on the floor in total silence, their forehead resting against the other.

"Please don't leave me."

"That is not even up for debate, I have a serial killer just waiting for me to do something so stupid like that and I end up as one of the faceless murdered victims on the subway."

"You don't know how I feel when you use death and yourself in one sentence."

"I think I have an idea."

"I'll be here until you get tired of my company and send me back boxed."

He chuckled, "That is never happening."

"Then I'm going nowhere well until the serial killer is found but after that, I'll still be here for you." She nodded and his eyes held hers, "We are friends and I ain't abandoning my friend ever. I don't even have an excellent track record for doing that so you are safe with me."

"Yeah friends."

Refusing to allow the familiar unpleasant foreign feeling he felt when she calls them friends to ruin the good moment they had going for them, he smiled and then hugged her again.