Chapter 64

The hood was black and the long fingers wrapped against eachother were a stark contrast of white against the dark background. The slight profile gave the illusion of part of its nose and the chin as well as the almost purple full lips. But they looked wrong. I whipped them clean with a damped cloth and continued tracing the black figure.

I'd been drawing all over the walls of the apartment.

I didn't work today.

I stayed here, frantically drawing and painting this dark figure that's been haunting me. I haven't eaten since yesterday, I feel the emptiness in my stomach but it's not enough to make me stop what I'm doing.

I walk to the breakfast bar and pull a drawer out I have to find something red to paint its lips. But there is nothing there. I move to the drawers in my bedroom to look for some lipstick or nail polish but there isn't any left, I used it all. I walk into the bathroom and look through the drawers there. But still there is nothing.

I pull at my hair and sit on the toilet. I have to finish this it has to be finished.

I stand again and I feel dizzy from the lack of food or water. I grab on to the sink just before I prick my hand on the razor and fall on the floor.

Darkness follows and I'm cold.

Sleep over takes me like a dark blanket.

I walk the club, checking on my tables, and again I go to the back of the room where the darkest exit is. I felt the chill as always, but this time I could almost make out a dark figure.

I come closer to the booth where I can almost see it clearly, but when I get there I see my nude body laying in it's lap, my wrist are deeply cut and there is blood staining my skin. The white boney fingers caress my hair, as the figure bows down to the face. I feel the burn on my forehead as the figure leaves a bloody red lip stain on the body's forehead.

The cold against my body wakes me, as I lay on the bathroom floor, there's a trail of blood coming from my palm, and the wound is already closed. Leaving a small line of red on the white tiled floor.

I stand on wobbly legs and hold myself against the sink again pricking myself, I curse under my breath at the pain.

And as if a light bulb has turned inside my brain I take the blade and walk to the living room.

I gather the red liquid coming out of my resent prick and smear it over the drawing's lips and its starts to take form.

The eyes are still colorless, but not because I can't see them in my dreams, it's more of indecision. I know them to be blue-gray but then they appear bright green and the skin even pale it's more life like.

I'll wait to see.

I make a mental list, tomorrow I will get supplies, I need to finish them.

I need to make them real.