Page 74 of Things Get Dark

We turn into a room already in good order. On the floor is a huge, sprawling piece of art. It takes me a while to circle it, trying to take it all in.

“What do you think?” Gabriel asks. He stands with his back against the door, arms crossed.

I don’t have an immediate answer to his question. I’m still absorbing the rich interplay of colour, the sweeping boldness of the line work.

“He’s offered to buy it from you,” says Gabriel.

My head darts up, and my brows twist in confusion. “Buy it from me?”

“Yes. You know, give you money for it.”

“Why would he…” I trail off.

At the far end of the room is a rolling ladder. The knurling in the rungs grasps at my bare feet as I climb as high as I can. Below me sprawls a beautiful tree. The paint has been layered on thickly and in different shades to give the impression of breath as you walk around it. The roots reach into an ocean of colour, the whole rainbow feeding the tree. The entire piece seems to breathe. Above are two eyes, looking towards each other. They’re different, though. One is a greenish-blue. It has the same iris that I saw in a printout when Rhys paid for us to have our eyes photographed. And the other is a rich golden colour.

“I did this?” My voice is quiet.

Gabriel nods. I climb back down the ladder and sit in a chair.

“But it’s beautiful,” I say.

Gabriel nods again. “Mr Grant thought you had potential. He wanted to see if he was right. I don’t think he was expecting this.”

“One eye is yours,” I say, before I can stop myself.

A pause. “It is?”

I nod.

“Why?” Gabriel hasn’t moved, seems incapable of moving.

My cheeks flush. “You… were important. During what I went through.”

He looks down.

“Sorry,” I say. “I know that’s a bit weird.”

“It’s a really beautiful piece. I can forgive a little weirdness.”

I have no idea how to respond to that. But that doesn’t seem to matter. The words pour out of me, anyway. “I don’t suppose you know anywhere to get breakfast around here? I’m starving. And, no offence, but I’d like to get out of here.”

“What about the art? Mr Grant wants to discuss purchasing the work.”

“Mr Grant can wait.”

Gabriel smiles like I’ve told him a secret. “There’s a cute café around the corner. Bluebells.”

“Sounds perfect. Gonna join me?”

“I—” Gabriel forces himself to stop walking towards me. “You’re quite forward.”

I shrug. “Life is short. You’re pretty, and you seem nice.”

Gabriel looks at me, eyes glittering with colours that could spark an inferno. “I’ll grab my coat.”

He heads out the door and down the hallway. As I go to join him, I look back at what I painted. At my understanding of the universe, of existence. I look back at the need to represent the meaning of life or to understand it, the need to explain it. And I walk away. I follow the pretty boy who might turn out to be just a guy, and we walk out into the frosty November air.

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