I can't reach you

Unknown Caller ID

      "Art takes on many forms Eloise, and you seem to be only exploring one.. why don't you take some time to study different types at home?"
       Eloise looks up to the teacher that hovered over her while they stare together at the large painting. Eloise hadn't been finding much inspiration to her art recently, and she hadn't tried finding any. The only art the had painted was that of feeling alone, and detached, like something was missing. She only replied to the teacher with a nod, knowing she'd go home to her dorm that day without studying, but taking a nap.

       She stood outside the college building, the doors opening and closing behind her while the clouds high in the sky had driven away the sun. All that was left was the rain to be watering the cement, and maybe even some of the fake flowers that grew outside the building. The rest of that water, it'd fall into the drains, and drown beneath the dirty sewage. Eloise didn't have enough money to afford an umbrella, so she used her hoodie to cover herself, even if the rain was loudly falling against the ground. She was close to taking a step outside and into the waterfall of droplets, when she felt her phone buzz from her back pocket.
           UKNOWN CALLER ID
      She read the text carefully, usually she ignored these calls; because they were always scams. However, this time, she looked down carefully at her phone and let her finger press against the green lit "Answer" button.
       "Hello?" She asked, as though she was confused to receive call. She usually didn't receive call at this hour, or at any hour. There was no one to call her. There was no reason to pick up the phone, if not even the weekly blog she signed up for would send her a notification update.
      "Hello? It's about time you've picked up the phone. You never answer my calls anymore, why is that?" The caller questioned, Eloise was stunned to hear such a calming voice from the other side. However, she knew the caller didn't mean to call Eloise. She'd never seen this number ever show up on her phone.
       "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number." Eloise replied, but the voice didn't seem to give up. They let out a sigh from the other end, which made Eloise worry that she was in the wrong. The long pause didn't seem to help stop Eloise's worrying, and neither did the non-stop rain.
       "I'm sure I don't, I've been calling this exact number repeatedly to finally reach you. How will you tell me I have the wrong number? Can't you see the number of times I've called you?" Eloise listened to the interrogating voice.
       "No... I'm sorry but I don't seem to recognize this number or your voice.." She replied, the voice sounded as though maybe they were checking the number again.
       "Then why don't we speak for a while then?" Eloise was stunned to hear this questioned asked by a stranger. Her head told her to respond with a no, but her gut said otherwise. Maybe if she finally took the time to get to know someone, to talk to someone, she'd have something else to think about other than herself and her art..
        "I'll call you back once I'm home, maybe then we'll speak.." Eloise replied, and pressed the red "hang up" button. Had she finally have a contact in her phone other than that blog? She rested her phone back in her pocket, and hid herself underneath her gray hoodie. Running underneath the pouring rain while she attempted to reach and barge into her dorm.

      The same every day, going to school, being told to improve, and going home. Nothing ever changed in her life, she was convinced nothing ever would. She ran from her home, from her family, in hopes to never return soon. Art was her only escape, her only change. She'd attend this art school to maybe find a bigger change, but now, her art was painted in the same circle. The same loop. She'd lay in her bed, and would always grip onto her sheets and pillows, hold her head underneath them so that maybe she'd lose her breath and never have to live in the same loop again.
       Pushed, beaten, and kicked to be the best. Her family, her mother especially did everything they could to make use of Eloises art, to starve her into becoming better. They took away her phone, her food, her happiness, just to make sure Eloise was perfect at everything she touched, looked at, or did. That's why Eloise ran, she ran to run, to get far from where she was told she belonged. That's why she hid underneath her bed, using it as a cave, as a pillar of comfort. That's why she slept, to sleep, to not hear, and hopefully to not breathe. That's why she drew, she painted, she sliced, she imprinted everything on a canvas, everything she felt. Maybe that's why she was overlooked, because no one understood a painting of a baby hummingbirds head being eaten off by its own mother. Because no one cared if the painting was about her feelings, only if it was pretty.

       Eloise opened the door to her dorm, falling in with it as her keys sang in her hands. Plopping her bag onto the nearest chair that was open, she walked into her bedroom and fell back into the bed that held her body perfectly. Her hair and clothes were drenched with rain water, as she pulled out her phone from her back pocket and looked at it with a blank stare. Contemplating wether to call the number back or not. Her thumb tapped against the phones black screen, and her tired eyes had just began to close, her hand going limp against the bed as she drifted off to sleep. However, her phone rang with an obnoxious tone before she opened her eyes again and looked at the number.
          UNKNOWN CALLER ID
       She knew the caller would be angry with her if she didn't respond, so she tapped onto the phones blank screen and answered it. She rested the cold, and a little wet phone against her red ears.
        "Hello.."- Interrupted by the caller:
        "Aren't you going to work on studying your art more?" The caller asked, Eloise's eyes opened wide, looking down at her phone, confused if one of her teachers had gotten her phone number to remind her to study. However, it wasn't, it was the same unknown caller.
        "Excuse me, what did you say?" She asked the anonymous voice.
        "Don't you have to study?" The voice replied, Eloise was sure she'd heard the correct words, but how'd they know that? How could they have inferred that Eloise had to study? How did they- "I know you must be confused right now, but don't be afraid and just go study! Maybe it'll keep you from falling asleep and finally calling me back." The call ended. Eloise sat up straight, her eyes down on the phone now while her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. She looked around her room, with white walls and her bed sheets gray. She still had no idea what to believe, what to think after this encounter.
     
     "Who are you, unknown caller.. and why have you appeared now?" Eloise though aloud, sitting in front of her blank canvas. She picked up her wooden paint brush, and dabbed it with care against the hard wooden pallet that was mixed and filled with dry oil and acrylic paints. Running her brush across the dark red color and slashing it across her canvas. The art she began to paint was as though she was painting a melody or a symphony. Like she was a composer of music, drawing her notes across the page.
      "What could you possibly need from me? Why?" Her thoughts ran from her head out her lips, while she painted the dark monotone colors on her canvas, she didn't know what she was painting but she knew it'd be about this new somebody in her life. She knew she'd paint the story of the one that called her. Her painting grew bigger against the canvas, her hands becoming filled with the messy paint and the debris of her masterpiece. Though she felt her fingers cramp, and her knuckles were red, beauty hurt and she was always taught to strive for perfection no matter what.
       "Show yourself now! Why can't I reach you now!?" Yelling loudly, as though someone could hear her. All that was left after the short echo of her scream, was her panting and her sweats. She looked down, her hai falling before her face while the rain pattered loudly against her window and her roof. It schooled out through her ears and she could feel her hands shake only a little. The painting was no longer about this mysterious person, but now about herself.. the phone rang again. She rushed to press the green button, to hear the unknown voice again.
       "Well done." The voice said, she panted while gripping her phone. Her steps were quiet against the floor board, while she walked over to look at her painting. Her heartbeat slowed as she scanned it carefully. The painting of a broken mirror covered with blood. The only reflection in the mirror, was herself.