09

|Paint your soul|

Ryan fused in his sleep and draped his ears with a comforter at the nasty ringing of the alarm. The whole night he disbursed in the inquiry of how to get in touch with Tayson and miserably fail. So he just slept on the couch.

"For the fuck sake, who is dying?" he muttered and grabbed his phone, ruffling his black tresses.

His eyes popped out of the sockets when over two hundred missed calls clouded the illuminating screen.  The man was on his feet, the apprehension writhing under his skin as he called Ronald's assistant.

His troubled feet pace and forth in the dull living room, and his eyes flitted to the sealed bedroom door where the beautiful witch was still sleeping.

"Hello, Blake! What's happening? My phone blew up just now," he said, battling to keep his voice down.

The other side nested in the impenetrable lull that just infuriated Ryan's heart to pound faster. When Blake spoke, bricks of blue hit Ryan straight on his head, knocking the wind out of him.

Ryan lowered the phone, riveting it tight. His mind numbed at the message and he couldn't find the courage to perceive it.

Then a massacring scream gashed through the weeping air. He galloped to the kitchen and his heart jumped out of his throat when he found a finger soaking in blood on the floor and Leona clutching her hand, blood draining out of her hands.

"L-Leona," he stammered.

Baffled and agonizing tears stream down his face which rendered Leona to quit wailing She glimpsed the man holding his head in his hand, panting heavily.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. That's just sausage and ketchup. My fingers are alright, man. I was just messing up with you," Leona said, letting a little laugh.

But Ryan couldn't hear any of it as he stared at her with blur vision. Leona frowned gaping at her forever composed and cool manager losing his calm. As far as she knew, the last time Ryan cried was when his boyfriend ditched him. She was there with the sobbing man to give him tissues and watch tom and jerry all night. Thereafter, she never witnessed him breaking down. 

"Ryan, did something happen, darling?" she asked, eyes still lacking emotions but her soft voice pulled the last string he was holding.

"Ronald had an accident last night," he informed her, biting on his lower lip.

Hush.

"He couldn't make it, Leona," the soft whimpers burst through Ryan and he aggressively mopped the tears, reverently watching her. 

The turquoise ocean stayed deserted and she just gazed at him, silently beseeching him to take the words back, or declare that it was a creepy parody to get back at her. 

She laughed, rubbing her chest as the dull pain thundered. Her vision blurred, she knew that she was losing it. "I will kill you right here, right now. Don't ever joke about this."

Ryan stood by his words, not moving a muscle under her treacherously scorching eyes.

Leona just stared back at him, eyes burning with the pain of his heart. "Say it's a lie. Say it, please," she choked out.

"I am sorry, Leona," Ryan shook his head, slowly approaching her shaking figure.

She clasped the scythe knife in her hands and the man leapt in fright.

"Leona, leave it. Keep it down," Ryan seized a vigilant step on the glacial-like floor.

The wounded woman's eyes obscure the darker shade as she was fascinating the intense blade hard enough to slice her hand and the vibrant crimson drops trickle down her trembling wrist to the ivory island.

"Leona! Put it down! L-lets talk!" Ryan howled with bloodshot orifices, his heart beating like a wild beast. 

Leona gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes restoring the pain as she hurled the knife away and stormed right past her manager. She was so prompt that Ryan couldn't stop her from latching herself in the bathroom. 

"Leona, open the door, please," his fist ruthlessly clanged on the wooden door and the scenario of her committing something outrageous split him apart.

The wounded lioness flouted the pounding and cries of Ryan and settled in an icy bathtub, enabling the cool water to cram in. "Why him?"   

The exceptionally frosting spring proceeded to swell up to her midriff as she drew her knees closer to her chest and the blood oozing from her hand inflamed with the water. Her hair tumbled on both sides of her face and aphonic tears rescinded her eyes.

 "I should have died instead. He can't just leave. He doesn't deserve it, Ryan. He didn't," she whispered, gulping in the bitter lump stuck in her throat.

"I know, baby. Don't say that. Please open the door. I am here for you." The man on another side feebly kept slamming on the barrier.

"Why did he leave me? Am I that despicable?" she mumbled, tears silently blending with the water. "I never got to say thank you. I never got to say how much he meant to me. I never got to say that I wished he was my father. I never g-got to reply to his I love you and take care."

"It's not your fault, Leona. Please, please, please, open the door."

Leona shut her eyes, held her breath, and submerged her head in the water.

Just how many more times do I have to break?

It was five years ago when Leona met Kang Ronald

The red hood over her head veiled her well as she drowned herself in the alcohol. Liquor should be the last thing she would be embracing at that crucial moment. But she was frantic to numb the pain, to shirk herself and die if possible.

Everything she possessed was fallen. She was kicked out of her house and the contest she shed herself for.

Her phone kept flaring with the calls of her younger brother but she didn't receive it. She was enormously remorseful of herself even to talk to her innocent bean baby brother. 

"Pick it up already, that song is annoying," a horse voice slurred beside her and Leona snapped her head to look at the person.

A messy man with a huge figure, big brown eyes, and messy hair stared back at her then he gasped out loud. "Oh god, are you Leona~

"Shhh!" Leona hissed like a venomous snake to muffle the old man down and glance around the approximately unoccupied bar.

"You are Leona Pierce," the man blinked in awe then he frowned, "You shouldn't be out in public after the scandals that you accomplished just broke out in the morning. Your fans and media will destroy you. Do you need a ride home?" the concern in his voice came out as malice.

 That's what happens when we reside among many poisonous beings. We start to distrust every other person we come across.

Leona dwindled her intoxicating gaze,  harshly chewing the raw ice cube. "I am not interested in sleeping with you, so, with all due respect fuck off," she said, bowing down to exaggerate her respect. 

The man rolled his eyes, chuckling in amusement. "As much as I want to cheat back my wife for cheating on me today, I have a daughter of your age and I certainly won't think of you in that way, respectful lady."

Leona's perfect eyebrows shrank in a profound frown. She shifted closer to take a good look at his face, her blurry conception vindicates and her mind ultimately commenced to behave. "Oh god, you are..."

"That's right. Hello, I am Ronald West," he nodded in acknowledgement. 

Leona gawked at the man, who she often looked up on the internet. If she wasn't so obsessed with the beauty queen shit, she would have certainly evolved into an artist and worked for Ronald, the CEO of one of the incredible Art corporations.

"I don't know about the scandals regarding you, but I have seen your blog and youtube videos of your paintings. Would you like to work with me?" he proposed her the job as nonchalantly as he offered her the ride.

The winter hair beauty sneered. "You bastards and you sick ways of getting us in bed." She uttered. 

"Hey, I a-

Leona presumptuously strutted and granted the man the last scowl before darting out of the bar. She staggered on the steps and clutched her throbbing head in her hands and the sickening feeling in her stomach biles up to her throat. Crossing the street still in a daze, hot tears prick her cheeks.

"This world is so ruined. So cruel. I just wanted to live my dream. What was wrong with that?" She drew a deep breath. "I can't live. I don't want to."

It happened so fast. A sudden flash of light struck her eyes and a car drove straight her. Her eyes magnified and a ferocious cry tore through her.

The next moment the running car whacked her so hard that she was flung miles away on the rough concrete. Bones shattering, sharp pain shredding her apart, the ringing sound in her ears echoed, she tasted the coppery blood in the back of her throat and the last thing she recalled was Ronald holding her in her arms, screeching for her to open her eyes and roaring for an ambulance. 

The man she barely knew, took her to the hospital, paid her bills, offered her his shoulder to cry, and concealed her from the world.

In her eyes, he became her shining knight in shining armour, her dad, her mentor, her guardian, and her saviour. He clasped her hand and plucked her to her feet, taught her to walk again. He patted her head every time she won an award, scolded her for smoking and being rude, cried every time she would scream and wake up from the nightmare, he hugged her whenever she felt lost.

He would always say, "Don't let the world decide the colours of your character. Paint your soul with your favourite colours."

The person trusted, though she didn't even trust herself, was now gone. Ronald West was gone.