I fixed her. I made her better, painted her pretty silk skin in red with my favorite silver brush. I drew her a necklace of garnets, dark red drops gleaming against her throat. I posed her on her bed, sunset paint against white-grey-blue patterned canvas.

She is my gift to you. I position her limbs, fingers splayed daintily, pale eyes staring past me into the distance. A rose spirals open in her hands, its yellow-orange-mauve contrasting with sharp reds and blacks, palest peach skin and light cool tones in the background. I paint silver into her skin. A thin thread of ink runs from the corner of her left eye, corrupting the image. I leave it; I want art, not perfection.

I sign my canvas, as I have always done, in the same paint. Sweeping curves, flourishes. Of course I use a pseudonym. Artists must maintain their mystery. Just in time, too, as I hear your sirens calling in the distance.

You're almost here. It's time to get your gift. It's time for me to go.

One by one, the officers file into the bedroom, grim mouths slashing through their faces. The last one in, a detective, sees the body on the bed and curses.

The girl's throat is mangled by multiple shallow, jagged cuts. A yellow, withered rose was pressed into her hands, thick thorns embedded in her palms. A tear had dragged mascara down one side of her face.

On one white wall, fingerpainted in rapidly congealing blood, are the words "help me."

My heart beats out of my chest, sweeping me off my feet like a broom. Although, even if I were to sweep this room, she would be cleaner. The vivid red.

His heart beats out of his chest; bones almost fly out. His legs, like spaghetti, fling themselves as if they have a mind of their own, or like a dog, searching for some poop to eat. The vivid red.

There is nothing in this world that can compare to her. Even the four white walls surrounding us bow, understanding that they hold the greatest secret the world has yet to uncover. The vivid red.

Any place in this world would be a better place than in there, where he and she stay content with one another. I had to get out of the room, though barely standing. My back hunched because my stomach punched itself just looking at it. And the smell, well my nose nearly suffocated itself. The vivid red.

I opened the window to watch the air press against her hair. It was green, and shined so bright, the sun had to blink. Soon, a mockingbird flew by, and in an attempt, tried to sing a tune that could match her, though there was none. I tell you, even ask the mirror, 'whose the fairest of them all' and you would get a picture of her. Her skinny legs but large chest; she is perfect. The vivid red.

There was no window. He spent days carving out a window from the thick padded walls. He did this with a spoon. A spoon! And once he and her saw the outside world, the sun had dropped down faster than a bullet. Only a raven came to visit. The bird of death itself; and yet when the raven tried to speak, it choked and died. I tell you, even the mirror in the public washroom broke after the incident; when he snuck her in there. With her stick legs but fat chest; she is a monster. The vivid red.

POV 1

The little cracks

along the surface

artfully places

let the light in.

The color attracts

they eye to see

the little delicate

pieces each inside.

The shape is wondrous

Beautiful and deceiving

Loving made

sadly forgotten.

POV 2

It is cracked and broken,

it fell on too many times

The pot was fixed to many times

leaving it shapeless and undefined.

It never dried, particles stuck inside.

The color long bleached by sun, is gone.

They had originally gave it to my friend. who I assisted with in a children's hospital. A tiny Rubik cube for small hands. He gave it to me. It couldn't twist and turn the right ways fast enough and half of the stickers had worn off. Which made it impossible for you to really solve it. But the kids tried. I tried. And the best moment was when one of the children would be so excited and yell out and say I have a side. And even if the colors didn't all work out - it didn't matter. Because, he did that day, more than I have ever accomplished in my life. Self-determination is a huge thing I've fallen short of in the past few years. Seeing him, so proud and so determined. I hope to find that again one day. Dear child. you inspired me to always believe - no matter what adversary.