Canvas of Shadows

13

It was merely a collection of sedatives and hypnotics. I reached for a rope nearby. "My regular medication. Of course, I've built a tolerance to this dose, but it'll hit you quite hard."

"What are you doing?" Lucas Manning struggled to suppress his drowsiness, propping himself up on the table before collapsing back to the floor."I'm here to remind you of something you've overlooked," I said, rising and crouching beside him. "It's a prophecy."

"I am a fugitive," I quoted, a prophecy that has spanned nearly two decades and is about to come true.

"Why..." Fear filled Lucas Manning's eyes.

I slowly looped the rope around his neck. "Meeting Charles Linden was perhaps a curse for most, but for me, it was a gift, a divine blessing for someone like me who was deemed talentless," I said as I slowly looped the rope around his neck.

The rope crossed behind his neck as Lucas Manning writhed, trying to crawl toward the door. "He made me realize that I wasn't truly without talent; it's just that my talent switch operates differently from others," I explained as the rope tightened.

The rope tightened. "My masterpiece, my debut work 'The Goddess,' depicted the body of a woman hanging from the upper floor on that Christmas Eve. I took that painting to my art school teacher, and he was truly moved. He looked at the painting and sighed, 'It's love,' then waived my tuition and let me attend his classes."

"But I've never been able to create anything as good since," the rope tightened further, and Lucas Manning felt the suffocating grip of despair. "I've been trying to recreate the mental state I was in when I painted 'The Goddess'—nervous, excited, exhilarated, with nothing else on my mind. If I could just get back to that state, I could paint well."

"Over the years, I've tried everything: drinking, racing, even drugs. My mind has been recklessly indulged and battered into ruin," I confessed as the rope continued to tighten. Yet, no matter how much I've tormented myself, I've never been able to reach that state."

"All these years of failed attempts have proven to me that only death, witnessing human death, can do it." The rope continued to tighten. Lucas Manning painfully arched his upper body, reaching upward for some intangible protection.

"Very good," I approved, "That pose, that's the one. Hold it a little longer. Meeting Charles Linden eighteen years ago was fortunate; it led to 'The Goddess.' How likely is it for someone to stumble upon a murderer, let alone witness the victim of the murderer?"

"A once-in-a-lifetime stroke of dark luck. One can't always rely on such ill fortune. If you want more, you have to take the initiative."

"For years, I've endured the pain of mediocrity and restrained my desire to kill. The former eventually triumphed over the latter. Charles Linden's capture made me realize I couldn't wait passively or depend on others. I had to take matters into my own hands and actively create human death."

The rope dug deep into his flesh. "I know that once I start, it means I'm lost, that my career will end. But it's a fulfilling end, more meaningful than a hopeless and pointless existence."

"The pain is unbearable—I can't accept that I, who once painted 'The Goddess,' will remain mediocre forever. I can't stand it. For over a decade, I've been a walking corpse, enduring all this just to avoid killing."

"Now, I can finally create a sequel to 'The Goddess.' God has sent the Goddess's child to me. You've been upset me for over a month, refusing to leave despite my countless rejections. It seems it was fate.—I can't, and shouldn't, hold back any longer."

"My intuition tells me that the Goddess in the painting and you are mother and son. You'll join your mother in heaven, completing your circle; and your sacrifice will complete mine."

"A happy ending for all."