Sydney

She was the first painting I'd ever done and she was the last I would ever do.

"Papa?"

"Just be still, little one."

I drew the knife from one side of her wrist to the other, using her blood; painting her life on my canvas. I kissed her forehead before her eyes closed and placed the blade at my own wrist.

In this sense, in my art, we would be together. In this case, we would be forever.

*will contain spoilers from my story, Wallaby Way, Sydney. Don't read if you don't want a part of the ending revealed.