A Haunting Masterpiece

5

After what felt like a seasonal hibernation of tossing, turning and pillow tossing, Rowen gives up with very little improvement on his previous state. His head still pounds with ferocity and his energy still dwindles on empty. He knew however, that he wouldn't be able to make up the test again and he could not afford to take the zero. He drags himself out of his bed at around 1130 am and into their personal bathroom to see if a shower would help him focus to study a little more. He glances over at his desk to notice a note on his laptop.

"Make up tomorrow at 11" had been written in Max's chicken scratch. He crumpled the note up and tossed it limply towards the floor missing his wastebasket by a foot.

He enters the bathroom in still what seems like a drunken stupor and haphazardly removes his clothing. His graffitied shirt hits the floor with a light, swift plop and stares back at him in a mischievous smirk. The libel only further reminding him that even good deeds could result in social suicide. Though he's used to being an outcast, some recognition for a noble act would help increase is already failing confidence.

He moves over towards the shower and turns the knob to the right. He always knew that cold showers were more effective for waking up but still did not stop him from preferring the comfort and warmth of a hot one. His body numbly walks over to the sink to brush his teeth (another simple thing that always helped him feel better in the morning) and is stopped suddenly. His gaze fixates on an object sinisterly sitting on the sink. The damage such a thing could do was insurmountable. The gleam it radiates seems to diminish all the other light in the room. The sleek design of the blade could make it so swift and so easy. He picks up the razor with great gravity. If only he could feel something other than this depression so wrongly bestowed upon him. Maybe a little pain could wake him up from the numbness. Maybe it could make him feel alive and separated from this energy drained zombie.

The air around him cools even with the hot water running. The steam seems to be trapped in the glass coffin of the standing shower. Nothing breaks his focus from the blade that now rests between his fingers. The gleam so alluring and entrancing. He snaps the plastic handle and removes the plastic protector around the blade by smashing it against the porcelain sink. Pieces of orange plastic no bigger than splinters scatter across the sink. The three paper thin blades lie in the wreckage waiting to be picked up. He picks up one of the blades thinking how fragile yet dangerous a thing so small could be. His head pounding as the blade pulsates in his hand, he investigates the now steam-ridden mirror.

He takes his free hand and wipes the mirror clean to find a chilling discovery. He freezes in a state of shock and awe. The figure in the mirror should be him but features reveal otherwise. No facial hair or any sign of masculinity appears in the mirror. What appears is the elegant contours of a female. A sense of familiarity comes across his face. He knows this girl. He looks at the blue sweatshirt the girl is wearing and notices that it is the same girl from the pavilion. Her hood now removed shows how beautiful she really is.

A thin brow lays atop two emerald green eyes that sparkle above medium set cheek bones. Her eyes, so entrancing, sway him as an endless field of tall grass gives way to a spring breeze. She hides behind no make up that makes her all the more stunning. Yet something about the beauty haunts him.

The girl in the mirror says nothing. Instead she raises her right arm as if to wave at him. As her arm is at its highest to wave she pauses and brings up her other arm that is now holding a razor blade. With a sense of hesitant curiosity, he goes to put down the blade in his hand to find that one of his blades are missing. He glances back into the mirror with the sound of trickling water running through his head. What now resides in the mirror is both beautiful and horrifying.

With intense fascination, Rowen observes the girl in the mirror as she swiftly glides the blade to and fro across her skin. In the way she dances the blade on her arm you would think she was grotesquely playing the violin.

Horizontal, diagonal, up and down the marks appear as red flowing streaks. It is almost like an abstract painting. The cuts and scattered droplets of blood combine to make a masterpiece of the macabre.

" What….what are you doing? Don't do that!! I can help you!" Rowen squeals in a tangent of excited horror and helplessness.

In response, all the girl does is bring her left index finger to her lips and then points off to his left shoulder. He could feel a strange comfort in the estrange act he is witnessing. He feels that somehow everything is going to be okay. He turns from the mirror and goes to turn off the shower all the while sensing that that is what she was asking him to do.

With the water turned off she continues. Rowen sees tears rolling down her cheeks, but a hunch tells him that the tears were not for herself. No wince of pain shows in her face though with each cut he winces.

"Just stop!" He renounces. "I can't take you doing this to yourself. I thought you were happy this morning. I thought you were okay?!"

Again she raises the hand with the blade to her lips motioning him to remain quiet. Its' almost like she's telling him there is a rhyme and reason for it.

He meets her eyes again and she puts the razor down. Just when he sets his eyes on relief, she does something unexpected. A paint brush now lays in her hand and she begins painting from the other side of the mirror. Using her blood and tears as paint she concocts a piece of something both divine and somber. Every stroke a motion of inebriating allure. As the painting became clearer and clearer with each stroke a sense of familiarity strikes him.

Upon the mirror is a crouched figure with its head in its hands. Surrounding it are waves of blue. The red supplied by the blood, the blue supplied by the tears.

"That's Empasic isn't it?"

She appears on the second mirror door above the sink and nods her head. She raises her hand and points at him.

"What do you mean? What about Empasic? Why did you do this?!"

And with Rowen's last words to her the door opens. He looks back at the mirror and both the girl and the painting vanishes behind a screen of steam.

Max comes into the bathroom and looks down at him on the floor.

" Hey. You okay? Why were you yelling?" He stutters frantically.

Max looks over at the sink and sees the two remaining razor blades.

"Wh…wh…what are you doing?" He crouches down to meet Rowen.

With a somewhat clearer mind Rowen responds sedately with a hint of solemn. "Isn't it sad how the most beautiful things come from the saddest people?"

"Wh…wh..what do you mean man? Talk to me buddy."

"I don't know exactly what I just witnessed but it was the saddest and most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Rowen trembles and begins to cry silently.

"They do say there is beauty and peace in darkness. What happened?"

"So…. There was this girl last night in the pavilion." He sniffles. "I don't know how to explain it but she started talking to me and and….and she started saying how she didn't want to live anymore. And then she uhhh hugged me. But when she hugged me I started to feel cold inside and I haven't been the same since. It had gotten so bad that I lost all will to even stand. It was like there was this giant boulder on my chest that I couldn't get off."

Max wonders about those words and remembers times he wishes he could repress. Times where he couldn't get out of bed. Times where he questioned his existence and purpose. Not so much suicide and self-harm but deep sadness and debilitation.

"Wow. Ummmm….I don't know what to say. I should've been there. I should've been there to help. I hate to say it but I passed out shortly after you left. What did she do after the hug?"

"It's okay man it was really late and I don't blame you at all. And uh I don't know she just kinda vanished in thin air." Rowen replies still trembling slightly.

"No shit. Like a one-night stand?" Max smirks haphazardly.

"Ha. Yeah I guess you could say that." He says lightening up a little.

" Is that why there are razors on the sink? Because it was difficult to handle?" Max says as careful and empathetic as he can.

" Well to be honest at first yeah. I thought maybe feeling physical pain would help drown out the deep emotional ones. I smashed the plastic casing off and was about to until well… uhhh.. nnn.nevermind."

"Nah man. What? What is it? Talk to me."

"Well the same girl just appeared in the bathroom mirror. She was painting the mirror with her own blood." Rowen confessed.

"What do you mean painting?"

"She… she uh opened up her forearm with a razorblade and began painting the mirror with her blood." Rowen shudders.

" Holy shit that's messed up. What happened to her? Did she die?"

"I don't really know. She disappeared as soon as you came in. She didn't even seem like she was in pain."

"And you're sure you weren't hallucinating or anything?"

"It seemed so real. But… it wasn't creepy at all. I was scared she was going to kill herself but she kind of reassured me she was okay. The weird thing about it was that it was quite peaceful and beautiful. I guess there was just a feeling of comfort in the chaos of it." Rowen replies calmly.

"How do you feel now?"

"A little better actually" Rowen says hesitantly. "Wait do you think I'm crazy?"

"Well normally I'd think you were 'I see dead people' crazy, but after the bizarre conversation I had today with Professor Frieg…. I uhhh… I kinda believe you." Max answers.

"Wait… Dr. Frieg?"

"I'll explain but first she told me to take you to her asap." Max says as Rowen shoots a dumbfounded look.

"I'll explain on the way." Max says as he helps Rowen up to his feet and hands him a towel to cover up.