Scars (Ziam)

Creative Arts

"Naomi!" A deeper, warm voice called. I glanced up to see a man walking toward Dr. Phillips with opened arms. Based on the way they hugged, I could tell they were good friends. "It's great to see you."

"Always a pleasure, Ezra," Dr. Phillips motioned over to me. "This is Liam Payne. He's hoping to tour the center today and see what activities you have to offer and how they help."

From my quick glance at the man before, I knew that he had dark skin, a kind face, and a beard that was full and dark. His smile was white and sweet. He was dressed in a muted blue shirt and jeans. Very casual as opposed to Dr. Phillips usual dress in her office. The vibe was the complete opposite of the silent and tense feeling of her therapy office, but I learned to trust Dr. Phillips. Perhaps I could trust this man as well.

"Hello, Liam. I'm Ezra," The man greeted. He held his hand out for me, and I hesitated before reaching out and shaking his hand. I didn't dare lift my head up. There was far too much light streaming into the room. Everyone would see.

"Hi," I mumbled out.

"It's alright to be nervous or uncertain. Most are before they fall into their chosen arts. It really helps take the mind off of everything while also working to pour out those conflicting feelings and thoughts. Do you have any creative outlets that you favor?" He wondered, and I felt ashamed to answer. My writing, while a creative outlet, wasn't half as good as that of others.

"He enjoys writing," Ruth spoke up, smiling proudly at me when I peeked up at her. "He's wonderful at it."

"Well, alright," Ezra chuckled out kindly. "Writing is an amazing outlet to have. There are so many thoughts that aren't equally conveyed when we speak them compared to when we write them down. What kind of things do you enjoy writing?"

"Poems," I mumbled, but he seemed to hear me as he responded right away.

"Poetry is great. I tried stretching out into it, but it's not my forte. I lack the words to create anything quite as beautiful," He laughed off. I wasn't sure if he was being genuine or kind, but I felt no ill intentions from him either way.

"Liam's poems are truly works of art," Ruth added, making me lower my head even more at her compliments.

"I'd second that," Zayn spoke up, making me look up at him. He smiled at me. "And I know a thing or two about art."

"I know you," Ezra stated, surprising all of us. "You're Zayn Malik. Your art is on display at the Rivera Gallery. You've sold many paintings all over the country at such a young age. I've seen your work. It's astounding!"

I liked him a little more now.

"Thank you. But trust me when I say my art is nothing compared to Liam's poetry."

Again, I didn't think Zayn was lying. It was something he truly believed. He held my writing to such a high standard-- over his own artwork. I didn't understand why or how he could think that. His artwork was my favorite thing to look at.

"Then it will be a tremendous pleasure working with you," Ezra offered. "I guess the perfect place to start would be the writing department. But there is a patient talking to their therapist at the station right now. We try to reserve times for patients to share any personal writings and talk about them if they feel comfortable," He explained. "So, we'll start with the art department."

We walked over toward the giant wall of windows. The sunlight was harshest here, casting a golden glow on the ground and providing heat through the glass. I wanted to crawl away from the light.

"This is where most students paint. The lighting is quite good here. You can paint anything you'd like, as long as it's honest and true to you. Sometimes, of course, you may be given a task to paint about. An emotion or something from your life and how it made you feel. It gives the therapists a better understanding." He pointed over at tables beside the easels. "There is also sketching, drawing, and colouring. The colouring is usually something the younger kids are attracted to. It helps to distract them as we talk and ask questions to them."