Little Hell

Blaire felt a huge weight on her shoulders; like the police could burst in at any second and arrest her for killing her boyfriend. They never did however and the only thing that happened was he was on the news and his sister came and collected his things, not bothering to acknowledge Blaire because the two of them hated each other. Blaire was almost certain that his sister, Anne, was jealous of her but it was never confirmed.

She had a class in a few hours every Thursday for exactly 70 minutes where she taught art to very talented college students. Before she went, she got ready to go to the coffee shop and was met by none other than Kale. This time, he was occupying her seat.

For some reason he couldn’t fathom the fact that she wasn’t ever going to want to talk to him again. He obviously had never heard the expression curiosity killed the cat.

“Why the hell are you sitting on my barstool where I sit every day to try to escape the fact that I hate my life and I hate people like you?” she asked, angrily.

“That would sting if I knew you weren’t full of shit.”

Jacob walked up to both of them, admiring Blaire’s wit.

“Good day Jacob,” she said.

“Good afternoon, sunshine. Here’s your tea. And I love your sunglasses.”

Blaire was still sporting the pair of shades as her bruise was still rather dark and would take at least a few more days to fully recover. Kale’s eyes narrowed.

“Could I have a coffee, black?”

“Of course,” Jacob replied, turning around at the counter.

“What brings you here today?” Kale asked her.

“She comes here before her art class on Thursdays!” Jacob said quickly.

Blaire glared. “Thanks Jake.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, passing Kale his coffee.

“Have you always worn reading glasses?” Blaire asked Kale who she never realized needed prescription glasses.

“I usually have in clear contacts but I do need them to see, yes.”

“I never would have guessed; they suit you well.”

“Thanks. Where do you teach art?”

“None of your business!” she snapped.

“The college just down the street,” Jacob intervened again.

Though Jacob didn’t necessarily want Kale to waste his time because he knew what would end up happening, he rather enjoyed the fact that he hasn’t given up this long – I think we all are by now. Others may find it annoying but they found it slightly amusing and even interesting like I’ve said.

“I’m good at art,” Kale smirked.

“I doubt that,” Blaire said.

“I’ll bet you that I am.”

“Deal. Meet me at the college in an hour.”

She gulped the rest of her coffee and put on her trench coat that she had only taken off five minutes ago then left, winking at Jacob.

“You’re really trying to piss her off aren’t you?” Jacob said.

“No, but it is a nice plus.”

“What are you trying to accomplish then?”

“I like her.”

“Haven’t I told you? She’s practically a walking mess. Taking someone like her on is not only stupid but hopeless too.”

“I think everyone deserves someone to not give up on them. It’s the ones that give up that miss out on awesome people.”

“It’s funny you say that because she’s only going to make you realize how wrong you are.”

“I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

“First the art and now this?” he asked with a tiny tint of disbelief, “good luck man.”

He spent a while in the café by himself as he continued to write his story about Blaire until an hour passed and he realized that he was supposed to be at the college already. He bolted after paying then walked into the classroom, his breathing staggered. Blaire only glared.

“Nice of you to join us,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “take a seat next to Alexandria.”

“She’s a crazy bitch; don’t worry,” the girl named Alexandria said, assuming he didn't know her.

Kale smiled in return then began to listen to Blaire’s lecture.

“Today I’m not going to give you anything specific due to our last three classes being centered on something very narrow. I want you to give me something simple that explains your emotion as of this second. I don’t want to see a bunch of boring shit like fruit bowls either. I want color and meaning and reasoning and you’re going to have to show me this through paint. Feel free to start with pencil or freehand but know that I want this wrapped up by the end of class,” she paused looking at Kale who couldn’t take his eyes off of her, “you have an hour so please begin.”

She expected Kale to draw something stupid like a heart or a painting with pink and red like you’d see in a third graders valentine’s day card. He however surprised her when he walked up to her in less than five minutes with a very simple painting. It started with a straight line and gradually screwed up into a big ball of scribble.

“Seriously?” Blaire asked, unconvinced.

“I feel confused. The straight line represents how easy I understand you in the beginning and then it gradually fucking up represents how you always push me away as soon as I start to figure you out. It’s simple, really.”

“I like it!” said the Alexandria student from the back of the class eagerly.

Blaire glared then Alexandria quickly went back to her work.

“She likes it and so do you. Your turn,” he said whispering the last part.

“What?”

“The painting; it’s your turn.”

Blaire simply smiled and started to paint a very detailed and beautiful picture of a zombie with each line making the painting appear incredibly real. She handed it back to him just before her class ended as he sat and watched a few of the students paint and looked at her with wonder.

“Here’s how I feel.”

“You feel like a zombie?”

“Nope, just dead; I don’t want your flesh Kale.”

“Are you sure?”

She smacked him in the arm as hard as she could then walked to the front of the class and told everyone to pack up there things and explained how they’d get fifteen minutes next class to work on their art. As everyone was leaving Kale walked up to Blaire and sat on her desk.

“Why do you feel that way Blaire?”

“I’ll tell you when everyone is gone. Maybe,” she said quietly.

He waited until every last person was gone in the exact same spot. She sighed at the sight of him still there and a small tear was in her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

“I killed my boyfriend.”