It was beautiful a work of art, really it was.
The perfectly speckled flakes of red dripping down the paper before her…the stunning silver eyes, and the long, tied back red hair…he was dripping in blood, and, it looked all to real for her to take.
Holding the paintbrush delicately in her hands, Thirteen's dull crimson orbs scanned his face over many times, before she calmly set the brush down on one of the paint containers, gently ripping her artwork out of the spiral note pad. Her own long, beautiful red hair had been pinned back, out of her face so she could paint for him a masterpiece, something to show she cared.
But, she didn't care…and the man sitting on the bed behind her could see it, each time she picked up the paintbrush to start another, her hand would shake and tremble.
Tenain knelt over, and took the art from her hands, her nails painted black today, courtesy of him and his nail polish. Thirteen wished he would just go away, and leave her alone to sulk in her self-loathing and shame. She did hate days like this, when he just wanted to spend time with her, to pretend to care and tend to the wounds he created across her body…
"Another." He said softly, seeing her again, reaching for the paintbrush. Her hands shook, like they always did, before she smeared the black pain across the fresh page.
Each stroke, killed her a little more inside, and the male rolled over onto his back, fully aware of how much she hated these days. Even more so, since he was fully dressed and all she had on was a blood soaked white sheet, which, she clung to almost desperately.
Her body…it was aching all over, and she felt filthy, covered in blood…but, there would be no sleep now, and no bath or wet cloth to clean herself with…all she had now, was her paint. Tenain chuckled as she drew his sinister expression flawlessly, dragging the red paint now across his flawless face, echoing how he looked to her.
"You will keep painting, until you paint me something without me looking as if I just killed a puppy." He said softly, his arm hanging off the bed, letting her newly offered art slip from his fingers. Thirteen mentally screamed in frustration, but simply started a new one, this time, hesitating for some time, before she let the black slide across the page. The unlucky number was beginning to loath painting…almost as much as she loathed him, Tenain.
Biting her tongue for a moment, she let the paintbrush fall, getting the ground littered with splattered black paint. "Im…sorry…" She muttered softly, her eyes showing no emotions what so ever. "…I cant."
Tenain lifted a curious brow, slipping off the bed, to take a seat next to her on the floor with a small smirk. He then reached down, and picked up the brush, putting it back in her hands.
"Here…I'll help then." He replied, his words like toxin. He moved her hand for her, and leaned a bit closer, slowly making the image of himself appear, himself with a semi sweet smile. Thirteen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she started to shake again, biting at her tongue with no mercy. He, did not smile a heartfelt smile towards her, and, this picture was hurting her insides, tearing her up…Thirteen couldn't take much more, and, when Tenain made her draw a sweet, soft colored background, she freaked.
Gasping sharply, she gripped the brush tighter, and then suddenly smeared it across the page, moving away from him with one, violent jerking movement.
He did not smile like that…period.
She turned away from him, and pulled the sheet closer to herself, letting out a soft whimper as she tried to relax again, the sudden movement causing her great pain from the after effects of the night before.
Tenain looked from the page, to Thirteen, and then sighed, narrowing his eyes. "Do you hate me so much…" He asked, glaring over towards her. "…That you would hate to see me, even somewhat happy?"
Thirteen closed her eyes, and whimpered more, toughing the outside of her blood laced thigh tenderly, where his nails had dug very, very deep. God it hurt…and her eyes rolled over the wound many times, knowing that it wasn't the only of its kind. Hiding herself in that single sheet, she let out her soft, pathetically submissive reply, "Im sorry…please forgive me, Tenain…" she whispered, feeling as thought she was about to puke.
Oh how she hated herself, she was weak, fragile, and she bent into his will almost every time, just wanting to get the easy way out.
Thirteen was sick of fighting back, sick of all of this…and she idly played with the stitches across her wrists, where, she had tried to take her own life. She could still remember that muzzy memory, of Tenain yelling at her not to leave, and not to run from him…but God if felt good…such freedom came with death…for the first time in a long time, she had felt nothing but peace…
But then, Tenain had dragged her back down to this rotten earth, and again, the pain was suddenly shoved onto her.
She screamed and cried for days after that, refused to eat, barely slept…she was so angry, so filled with rage, hate, pain, sadness…that both of her hands where wore down to the last layer of flesh; she had been punching the cemented floor in her room. Why, why did he bring her back, just to suffer like this?
"…I didn't…mean to ruin it…" she whispered, flinching when his hand touched her face gently.
He chuckled, and then rather roughly pulled her into his lap, seeing her face riddle with pain, even though her eyes stayed lifeless, dull. "Well then, we'll just have to paint another." He said sternly, moving her around till he was comfortable. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she let out a low groan, starting to feel sick from her blood loss.
Tenain didn't care, though…he merely pulled her hand out form under the safety of the thin sheet, and once again helped her paint a beautiful picture of himself. This time, though, he added Thirteen's face in as well, her expression betraying her feelings.
She looked…happy…in the picture…so very happy…
A tear slid down Thirteen's cheek as her dull crimson eyes landed on the picture, unable to take this anymore.
All she wanted was to curl up into a small ball, and die…her back was stained with whip marks, and his arm, constantly moving her around wasn't help any. Her vision was fuzzy as it was, due to the lack of blood flow to the brain of hers, and, Thirteen's normally beautiful neck was smeared with bloody kisses and teeth marks, bruising kicky's joining the marks.
Her thighs where all scratched up, and her hips had fine, dark ruses on them, along with her arms and wrists, both chain link bruises, and ones that looked as though he had just held her down a bit to hard.
Her face was lacking any cuts, scrapes, bruises…how could he ever hurt such a pretty, no, gorgeous face?
Thirteen gasped sharply, her head rolling back when he accidentally moved to quickly, his elbow nailing her right in the back, where those freshly made marks where. He chuckled, and gently kissed her forehead, not apologizing. "There…that wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked, holding the picture up for her to see.
It wasn't as nicely done as hers was, since he painted it for her, but…it wasn't bad. The unlucky number looked away, and hid her head against Tenain's chest, refusing to cry, or even show her distress to him.
Tenain chuckled, and held her close to himself, pretending to care about how she was feeling at the moment.
"I can make your pain go away…Sariel…" He whispered to her, seeing her eyes slide to meet his, desperate hidden very dull in her now glossy red eyes. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and, it wouldn't make any of her pain leave…it would only make the poor girl's pain worse.
She looked away again, her eyes narrowing lightly. How she hated him…how she loathed and was disgusted by him…
But, she had come to the thought not long ago, that it was only herself who she hated so much. She had loved Tenain at one point, and, she probably still did to some extent…but, it was herself, who deserved the hatred in her eyes. It was her, who was disgusting and weak, like a fragile doll, so beautiful, so breakable…God, was she really so pathetic?
Yeah…she was quite pathetic, and shamefully, Thirteen looked away from Tenain, his eyes staring into hers with no mercy.
The Experiment let out a loud gasp as she was suddenly slammed against the ground, Tenain straddling her with a solid smirk. Her arms fell lifeless, and, her eyes rolled off to the side, seeing that one of the glass bottles of paint had been knocked over. She couldn't help herself, and, Thirteen's eyes glazed over, appearing darker then before.
Thirteen was used to his sudden urges, his sudden attacks of violence and lust.
When it happened, she would always pay attention to something different, ignoring his hands tracing her thin frame, kissing and biting his way down. The paint was beautifully spread across her floor, her fingertips barely able to become slick with the thin blackness that leaked from the bottle. She winced and bit back a scream, when she suddenly felt pain, hearing a small grunt of a moan passing Tenain's lips.
Sick…
Thirteen shivered, and winced more, her eyes still clouded over with the lifeless feeling that Tenain so hated. Her muscles tightened some, and she fought back her tears, knowing that if she let them fall, it would only further amuse him.
Why did it turn out this way for her? There where plenty of other people in the world…why…why her?
It didn't matter, Tenain was threw now, and, he whispered her name breathlessly, causing her to shiver again, fresh blood running down her legs to form a pool of the slick liquid on the ground. Thirteen's eyes rolled into the back of her head, and he stood, leaving the room without another word, leaving her there.
She slowly forced herself to roll over, letting a cry of pain pass her painted lips. "D-Damn…" She chuckled darkly, now feeling a raw, numb tingling feeling race threw her legs, and threw her chest.
She was insane, to be chuckling like that, despite all her anguish, internal and external injuries…no, it was the easiest, and the best way to not cry, to not scream a and yell in her anger, her misery and self loathing. No one could understand exactly why she was always chuckling, or snickering bitterly, a smirk gracing her lips…she was a sick, disturbed creature, weak, fragile, but not completely broken yet.
No, she was not completely shattered, not yet. As long as she could smirk, as long as she could hide it all away, even though she was dying inside, no one else would ever know.
Pulling the filthy sheet around herself, she just laid there on the floor, her fingers slowly sliding back and forth in the spilt paint. Thirteen shivered and trembled in her numb sensation that came with blood loss, finally passing out a mere few moments after Tenain had left.
Gorgeous, stunning, soaked in blood…dirtied fingers, laced in paint…Thirteen just said there.
It was beautiful a work of art, really it was.