Page 17 of Broken

“That’s not something to joke about. Think happy thoughts Kitty Kat, like where are we going? Get excited about living.” He says, flipping his blinker on. I watch him with careful eyes, he looks back to watch the traffic and pulls out onto the highway, hitting the speed limit quickly.

Happy thoughts?

Like what, rainbows and butterflies? Butterflies live for like two weeks, although some species live longer if they hibernate during winter. Yes, I’ve googled that before. I like googling useless information.

The only thing I find joy in anymore is drawing. My journals are hidden, no one knows that I draw, it’s the one thing I have to myself. My secrets aren’t even mine, Knox knows them, he created them. I’m just living the life I know how to live, floating through space on a rock until my time comes to an end. Others will continue to live. There will always be darkness and secrets that belittle and break people like me. I lean up to his radio, turning it onto Bluetooth and pull my phone out to link them together. I’m not sure how long the drive is, and sitting in silence after all of that isn’t really my style. Music feeds the soul, so maybe he can hear how I feel inside, by listening to the music I connect with.

Chapter Eight

Westley

Certifiably crazy.

That’s what she is, there’s no doubt in my mind now. I thought she had demons, but that stunt she just pulled tells me that there’s more to the story behind her behavior change. She’s not being rebellious like her parents try to make everyone think. Katherine Winston has something serious in her past that has thoroughly broken her. I knew she had secrets and something happened. But for her to want to die, right there on the side of the highway just shows me that it's more than just something.

I pull into the parking lot of our first stop, the art gallery. I’ve watched her draw for years, each and every night she’s alone in her room, she’s drawing in her notebooks. The ones she keeps under her mattress. I don’t know what she draws, but I know she loves it. It’s one of the only times she truly smiles.

“Why are we here?” She asks, her brows furrowed at me like I’ve done something wrong.

“I thought you’d enjoy this.” I shrug, trying to play it off like I didn’t totally plan out an entire day weeks ago, just in case she let me in. I’ve had this day planned for so long, well minus the highway incident.

“Why would you think that?” She unbuckles looking up at the building.

“Come on.” I say with a smile as I climb out of the car. Her roses sit in the back seat. They’ll likely die without water, but I’ll just cut new ones out of the garden. I told her it was my garden, but it’s totally my moms. I just have a few plants in there, specifically for Katherine. Her favorite flower before she went all Edgar Allen Poe on me was a calla lily, which I have growing in the greenhouse. Once she started dressing differently I had my mother hunt down the black roses and plant them for me. She did, and they bloomed beautifully their first year. Hopefully they continue to grow and flourish.

Rounding the front of the car I take Katherine’s hand and lock the car. “I love this place.” She whispers as we walk through the front door. “There’s a painting being showcased here that I’m dying to see, the last time I came, it was off the floor for cleaning.” She suddenly comes to life, her entire body filled with joy.

We walk through the art museum, slowly as I let her look at everything. I don’t know anything about any of this, but I know she does. That this is where she flourishes, like a flower in the garden on the verge of death, only to come to life with a little tender care.

Each time she moves to a new painting, I stay two steps to her right, watching her as she looks at them. Her face is lit up as she concentrates on each piece. “I love the brush strokes on this one, it's heavy handed, full of anger, yet beautifully done. There’s a pureness to it.” I know exactly what she means, because she just basically described herself. “There it is.” She takes my hand and leads me down the hall until we reach the painting she wants to see.

I study the painting with her, there’s two people in the forefront, one seems to be holding something in his hand as he leads a woman. There are people in the background, water, and trees. I don’t know fuck all about this painting. But she lets out a sigh. “It’s so beautiful. Look at how he’s leading her away.”

“Tell me about the painting.” I say stepping up behind her, resting my head on the top of hers as my arms wrap around her waist.

“Orpheus’ wife was bitten by a snake, he comes to retrieve her, leading her away from the Underworld. The story has a tragic ending though. Orpheus loses Eurydice forever when he turns to look at her before reaching the world of the living.”

“So he tried to bring her back to life?”

“Yes, but because he looked at her, he lost her forever.”

“Why couldn’t he look at her?”

“It was the land of the dead, where their spirits lingered. He was told to lead her to the trees and she’d be freed, but he couldn’t without looking at her and she was lost.”

“That’s terribly tragic.” I reply, pulling her tighter against me. “Why is this painting so important to you?”

“It’s a beautiful story, and an even more beautiful painting.”

“What’s the painting called?”

“Orpheus leading Eurydice from the Underworld, by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot. It was painted in eighteen sixty-one.” She sways in my arms as she continues to stare at the painting.

I couldn’t imagine having someone you love so deeply to be lost to you. To go get her from the Underworld, only to lose her right before you get her back.

Unsure how much time has passed, I look down at my watch to see that if we don’t leave in the next thirty minutes, we’ll miss our reservation. “Are you about ready? We have somewhere else to go.”

“Just a little while longer.” She hums, still staring at the painting.