Page 4 of Rivals

Icanfeelhereyes on me. Except I’m too high on OBA to actually care about what she may or may not be thinking, feeling, or doing, for that matter. Though, this might be a hard trip because I swear someone is talking to me, and I walked the communal room twice. No one is here, and if Revna was coming back, she isn’t here now. No one is.

With the combination of being high and near her, I caught myself staring at her longer than I should be. It drives me nuts. I have to force myself to look away. I don’t want to look at her like that. She’s annoying, and I don’t want to be around her. Her dark eyes suck you in, and then once she has you, it’s like she sees into your soul as if she sees things that you don’t want anyone to see. Pieces too ugly to be seen in the light.

Maybe those things need to be seen in the light, Lachlan.

Whoa, I didn’t say that. It’s the opposite of what I was thinking. I really am tripping hard this time around.

You may have used drugs, but it’s not the drugs speaking to you right now.

I’m going to have to check myself into the hospital or a psych ward if this keeps up. Even though that’s not an option, it would mean that Revna beat me because I couldn’t handle myself.

Revna is not your enemy.

Ok, if what happened earlier wasn’t confirmation, this is. I can’t stand Revna. She is my enemy, archnemesis, or any other name that needs to be said to make it clear. That woman has it out for me, and it hurts to look at her. She is the villain.

I stare at the canvas. My paints are ready, my mind is not. I could do sculpture, but it doesn’t seem to fit, and I don’t have time. My main mediums are paint and sculpture. I could never decide on one, though my true love is sculpture. I tried getting into other things like Revna, but it never felt right in the long term. Idoother art, but it doesn’t speak to me like paint or sculpture. I get to manipulate them the way I have been manipulated in my life. It gives me control because nothing else inside of me or around me makes me feel like I am in control. But I sure am in control of that canvas.

I grab a big spot of black paint and swipe it over the canvas. The black stands out from the white, talking to me. Then my body or my brain, I don’t know which, maybe both, finally feels right. They are in sync, and it’s the only time I ever feel this way. I continue grabbing colors and swiping, blending, or splattering. I lose track, my body takes over, and it’s as if my eyes aren’t seeing what’s in front of me. Even though I can tell there is bright orange and blood red with a spot of lavender, my eyes don’t see the bigger picture. It feels like someone is controlling my body now. I can’t see it for what it is yet, and I don’t think I will until it’s done.

Trust me, Lachlan, you will see. Just keep going.

Ok, I guess that’s fine, voice. But what if it’s not good enough for the competition?

Making me repeat myself yet again, trust me. You will see. She will see. Open your eyes.

I don’t know what that means, but fine. You are kind of freaking me out, though.

There is no reason to be afraid. I love you.

I love you, too, I guess.

Look at her.

I really don’t want to, ya know. I don’t like looking at her, to begin with.

Well, you might as well get used to it.

Why? I don’t have to spend much more time with her anyway, thank God.

Ah, but I think you want to spend every moment of your life with her. That’s ok. You don’t see yet, do you?

Well, I don’t, if that’s what you’re saying.

Wow. I’m certifiable if I’ve been having a lengthy conversation with a voice in my head, which also seems to be telling me how to paint. The edge of insanity is precariously close. But then again, it always is.

A spot of red paint drips on the floor, catching my attention. I turn to see if Revna is back, but she’s still gone. I have no idea what time it is, but I have a feeling it’s been a while. It’s not unusual for me to lose track of time when I’m working.

Returning to my painting, the reds, the purples, and the black blend and bleed together, yet it holds its own. I don’t know what to make of it, but time is up, and it’s what I’ve got.

You will see. But for now, your work is done.

I groan inwardly. I am getting very tired of this cryptic voice in my head, talking to me and telling me what to do. It’s time to go home, and get some sleep.

By the time I finish washing my brushes and putting them back in my area, I spot my competition back in her spot, busy with her canvas. Her headphones are in, and she has no idea I’m here. I plan to keep it that way.

She will be your future.

Ok, then, that’s my cue. The high is wearing off, and I’m trying really hard not to lose my mind right now. I need to put some space between us because even her presence is overwhelming. I can’t wait to leave this school behind and move on.