Page 138 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I shake my head, going to my room to change my running clothes.

I need to get out of here. I’ve been stuck at home with my mum for a week; I’m going stir-crazy. I was able to paint some new canvases while I was at home, my mum giving me her opinion and suggestions, but now I just need to get out of here. I know the doctor told me I needed to take it slow, but he did encourage me to stay active by going on walks and doing non-vigorous exercises.

The moment I enter the park, I start my exercise. I feel a little better as soon as I pop my headphones on, blast my music, and find my speed.

I inhale deeply. The comforting smell of pine trees, dirt, and grass, combined with the soft caress of the wind against my skin, makes me feel so much better.

I begin to slow down when a familiar head of dark waves catches my attention. Before I can think, my feet sharply turn toward her.

What is she doing?

She’s sitting on a bench, staring at a random bush with white flowers. I slow down until I’m standing beside her, expecting her to look up and smile at me with that stupid grin I can't stop thinking about and call me her angel.

But she isn’t doing any of that.

Actually, she’s not even acknowledging me at all. It’s as if I’m not even there, and she’s just staring at that bush as if it’s the most important thing ever.

“Briar?” I bend my knees so my face is level with hers. “Briar, hey.”

Nothing. She’s still staring at that stupid bush.

Um, okay? Is she seriously ignoring me? What the fuck, this isn’t her.

“Hey! Briar.” I snap my fingers in front of her, ignoring the looks of people passing by. I don’t give a shit that I look rude right now.

This infuriating woman is acting as if I don’t exist, and I don’t like it.

I drop my hand and frown as I realize something while looking at her.

Her eyes.

It’s different. Yes, they’re the same beautiful caramel color, but it’s… different.

There’s no spark, no brightness, no recognition at all that there’s someone in front of her.

No, her eyes are open, but they’re blank.

Empty.

Not like my Briar.

Okay, this is seriously freaking me the fuck out.

I kneel before her, placing my hands on either side of her face to force her to look at me. Her eyes slowly tear away from the bush with white flowers and shift to mine.

I force a small smile, trying not to freak out with how she’s looking at me so blankly. “Hey, Briar.”

She blinks. “Hi, Rurik.”

Okay… She’s answering. But I don’t like how flat her voice sounds.

I swallow hard and say, “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” She says.

Like a fucking robot, her voice is flat and monotone.

I scoot closer and drop my knees on the ground. I continue cupping her cheeks, my thumb caressing her smooth skin.

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