Of course you shouldn't tout your own horn too much, but there was no denying it. This. Was. A. Masterpiece. One of those great artistic achievements that would be seen and appreciated for years to come. One whose significance would still be seen centuries from now.

Today, it would probably not be appreciated for its value, but boundary pushing art rarely was in the life time of its creators. That was okay, really. As she pushed herself back from the desk, she at least had the satisfaction that she had made something groundbreaking.

Editing had really done wonders here, but the techniques were never as important as the subject matter. True art always transcends the medium that captures it.

Sure, the idea had been the same in the previous iterations of their work, but it had never come out quite as well. Their subject had taken them in a direction they hadn't anticipated, but the result was so organic, and dynamic it seemed to be the best way. Planning could only do so much when you had inspiration.

Would it be too indulgent to look at the work just one more time? Surely not. Sometimes even the artist could enjoy the results of the work.

She clicked the button almost reverently, her finger touching the mouse only just as hard as was needed. The sound of soft singing, an almost wailing, mournful tone filled the air. Maybe the song choice wasn't the most original, maybe they should have written one themselves, but really, it fit well, and the interpretation was what mattered.

Playground school bell rings again

The screen was filled with short, fleeting shots of a face, shot from the left, a drop of blood, a tear trailing down a cheek. The background was always black, the stark lighting almost too harsh, putting in great contrasts.

Then the singer came into view. On the left side the end of a gun was visible, pointing at hands shakily holding some sheet music. Slowly, it panned up, so the young pale face came into view. He was quite beautiful, really, in a way few males were. Pale skin was flushed slightly, and tears that were being held back were glistening in blue eyes.

Rain clouds come to play again Has no one told you she's not breathing?

The sound of the singing wasn't quite as full as it was on the original recording, even though they knew he had the vocal capability to match that. Breath was hitching, every few words not quite audible. The emotion in the voice was so genuine and heartbreaking that the video was almost unnecessary. Just the recording could have made people cry.

Not that that was the point. Which was why this experience was so much richer.

The shot faded into one of exposed pale skin, a close up of a back next to a discarded white button down shirt. The starkness of the contrast enhanced the effect, when a glistening silver scalpel dug lightly into the soft skin to start tracing a pattern, while in the background the song went on.

Fingers curling in pain, taking what seemed to be an agonizing long time, even though it was barely two seconds, and then quite suddenly stretching again.

Back to the pattern, now the shot had a slightly higher angle, so the outline of the rose petal that was being traced was more obvious to the observer.

The sound design had originally supposed to have been only the song, with no distraction by any other noises, but by what happened to be pure coincidence, one of the screams had been the perfect pitch to fit in with the song, even though those particular notes would only be reached later in the song, one long scream that seemed almost ethereal when hearing it out of context was in the soundtrack at that point.

Back to looking at the design. Now it was finished, shot from above a rose made from blood, drawn across almost the entire expanse of the back, some drops slowly dripping down.

A new shot, of the protagonist sitting up, with his hands tied behind his back, visible from the shoulders up.

"Are you insane?", he said with an unexpected venom for such a pretty voice, to someone off camera.

"You want me to do what? Leave messages? Tell everyone I love not to be sad, and that it's all going to be okay?" incredulous laughter followed. "Yeah well it isn't. You're just standing there telling me this is the last thing I'll ever say, and you want me to be fine with that? I want to go home, I want to live!" Desperation was in that voice, but still so much anger.

Most of the others who'd starred in her productions had been panicking, pleading and crying desperately, but this… this was different. Looking at him, she would never have guessed he would turn out to be the strongest of them all, faced with certain death, but looks could always be deceiving.

"So no. I'm not going to say whatever it is you want me to say, and I don't care if it doesn't fit into whatever kind of fucked up picture you're trying to paint."

A cut back to the back, now covered by the white shirt again, with blood slowly seeping through it. The picture had been painted. And it was quite beautiful, to be honest.

Cut to the last shot of the video. And it was a fantastic one. Off screen someone was saying something, but for obvious reasons she hadn't been able to insert the actual voice. Still, the face that was now in close up reacting was enough. The look of resolve slowly replaced by fear creeping in, a look of terror only just beginning to form…

Cut to black.

Not nearly as explicit a video as any of her previous work, but in a way this was even more powerful. Because every viewer would fill in what that look meant, their imagination possibly making it even more terrible than what had actually transpired.

She leaned back in her chair again, pleased with herself. Of course, similar videos could have been produced by others, and probably had been before, but there was one decisive difference between those and this one.

This one was real.