Our Bloody Masterpiece

He’s yelling at me again, but that’s nothing new. I thought that coming to the mall would help me escape the world. I thought I'd be able to sit and draw for a while to calm down. Once I was calm I'd be able to return home. Though, he followed me here like a lost puppy dog. If Drew was to be compared to a dog he’d most likely be a Rottweiler because he’s as ferocious as one. I don’t know why I let myself go back to him again, and again, but this time it’s off for good.

“Jesus fucking Christ Charlie! I give! And I give! And I give! And I get treated like total shit!”

I continue sketching in my book and I can feel the fat salty tears running down my face. Drew wasn’t the giver; he was the taker, he took my soul and bound it to him with an invisible contract.

I’m moving the pencil on the page, working hard on outlining the child I had been drawing earlier. She was with her mother; eating an ice-cream and she looked so adorable that I just took out my sketchbook and started to draw. They didn’t notice me staring; nobody ever does, I’m just a shadow in the corner, the invisible girl. This is why I had been hoping that Drew wouldn’t find me.

I grip my pencil tighter and try to focus on my art, making the child’s face rounder, babylike, and a tall boy walks up to Drew, fearless. He tells him to bugger off, for use of a better word, and then turns to me, all gentlemen like and friendly. Drew is fuming, angry in the background, his blue eyes filled with rage and anger creasing his forehead. He turns away and bolts out of the mall, something that I’ve never seen him do before in his life.

He is tall and scrawny, with dark eyes and a stubble. He’s wearing a lumberjack shirt, with black skinny jeans and scruffy looking shoes, but he’s pretty gorgeous.

“Sorry about that whole mess. I couldn’t let him keep that up… I’m Spencer, by the way. Spencer Cage. It’s nice to meet you.”

He smiles at me and offers me his hand, I take it because if he's sticking up for a girl like me, he must be friendly. We shake hands and he sits down beside me and roots around in his pockets for a bit until he produces a worn out hankercheif. Still, it looks relatively clean and I blow my nose in it as he wipes away my tears.

"Keep it, it's a gift. What's your name?"

"Charlotte Rian. You can call me Charlie." I say, pocketing the hankercheif and attempting to smile at Spencer. There's something about him that makes me want to befriend him, but I get the feeling that he's hiding something, a dark and twisted secret. But that's just me. I get strange feelings like that from loads of people, usally I'm good at figuring out what an individual is like.

"Thanks... about before." I look at Spencer, and he looks straight into my eyes, which is a sign of a person who cares alot about respecting others and himself.

"It's fine, glad to help out a girl who was in trouble. Who was that guy anyways?"
The way he talks, so politely and completely unlike Drew.

"That was... Drew. I ended it with him today and he's gone completely crazy and begging for me to come back to him. I'm just sick of it all, I need to escape for a bit."

"What a dick. Seriously, Charlie, you're better off without him. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and I'll take you out for a drink."

I nod at Spencer, and he smiles and looks down at my sketchbook, and spots the drawing of the child.

"Woah, Charlie, this is amazing."

I blush and close my sketchbook. Art is my way of escaping the world. From tiny doodles in the corners of my notebook to full blown sketches that I'd work on for days on end and tiny splatters of paint on a blank canvas. One day I want my art to sell for lots of money. I want my name to be one that families that are interested in art to discuss over dinner. It's my dream, one day it shall be a reality, but sharing it with a complete stranger right now doesn't sound so appealing. Maybe once we get a few drinks in us, it would be better.

"I know a good place around here," I say, attempting to be bright and cheerful, however the run-in with Drew still had me slightly shaken. I wasn't sure if Spencer noticed, but my voice shook on the last word.

"Okay, let's go then," he said, helping me to my feet. While walking towards The Castle, one of the best bars here, I noticed that Spencer carried himself differently than other people, and that he was very observant of his surroudings. Every now and then Spencer looked at me and smiled what seemed to be a cheerful smile, but when he smiles like that it makes him seem lonely. But that's just me, I've always been weird, but I've been told I'm a good judge of character.

"Here's the bar," I say, leading him inside.