Page 141 of Misery

Her face presses against my back, breathing me in.

"Thank you," she says. "For answering my questions. For not treating me like I was too fragile for the truth."

"I will never treat you in a fragile way ever again, Elfe. I promise."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elfe

The paint spreads across the canvas in shades I haven't used in months.

Yellows like early morning sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Soft blues like calm water after a hurricane.

Even some green—growth, life, possibility.

My hands move without thinking, creating something that doesn't look like trauma for once.

The dogs lie at my feet in their usual formation.

Rex’s massive head weighs down my left foot, making it tingle with pins and needles I don't bother to relieve.

Luna stretches along my right side, her breathing deep and even.

Odin watches the door with those intelligent eyes, tracking every sound from the house.

They've been like this since I got back from the meeting yesterday—guard dogs who somehow know I need guarding, even here in the safest place I know.

The painting is abstract but hopeful.

Sweeping upward strokes that might be birds or might be souls ascending.

The darkness is still there—you can't paint trauma away—but it's at the bottom now, a foundation rather than the whole structure.

Above it, colors bloom like flowers through concrete.

"Looks different," Saga says from the doorway.

She's wearing one of Emil's shirts, coffee mug in hand, looking domestic in a way that still surprises me sometimes.

I don't turn, don't stop the brushwork.

The flow is too important to interrupt. "Feels different."

She comes in, sets coffee on the table beside me.

Two sugars, splash of milk.

Everyone knows how I take it now.

There are no secrets in this house.

The mug is warm against my paint-stained fingers when I pick it up, taking a sip between strokes.

"The colors are lighter. Warmer."

"Yeah." I add a streak of orange, bold and unexpected. Sunset or sunrise, I'm not sure yet. Maybe both. Endings and beginnings. "Maybe I'm tired of painting darkness."