The House

Chapter 40 - Day 4: Inspired Drawings

I drew this specific part based on what I saw rather than what I imagined. In fact, all the sketches are mixtures of what is and what could be, some sections filled in with touches of colour, while others are left in darkness and mystery.

A nasty chill runs up my spine and spreads into my hair, puckering my scalp in an uncomfortable crawling manner. Someone is standing just inside the house's open door, watching me while I'm drawing flowers and playful children at the bottom of the patio. One of the children has his head turned to look at the door, his body posture tense as if he is seeing something.

Why on Earth would I draw that? 

Besides, when I was drawing the section with the door, I was very much in realism mode, drawing exactly what I was seeing, nothing more and nothing less. The bottom section of the patio and the expanse of the house where the library is located are the only areas of the drawing where I gave free rein to my imagination and whimsical desires.

Surely, I would've seen it if someone had been watching me from the door! Someone not so friendly, if the discomfort I'm feeling is anything to go by... and the startled posture of the imaginary child I drew.

"David," I say casually, placing the book on the counter between us. "What do you think of this drawing?" I want to know if he sees what I'm seeing.

He pulls the book towards him for a closer look, and a frown draws his brows together. "I like what you did with the imagined parts of the house, the patio steps and the bannisters, but creepy drawings of sinister men glaring at playing kids are not really my vision," he shrugs, grinning at me. His smile fades when he sees the look on my face. "Belle?"

"You're right," I breathe nervously, pulling my pencil bag towards me. I extract a soft pencil and eraser from it and, moving the book into a comfortable position, I cover the figure in the door with angry pencil scratches and blend him into non-existence using the tip of my finger. Satisfied that there is no longer a figure in the door, I erase and redraw some of the contours of the sketched child, relaxing his pose and making him a happy participant in the children's game.

"Belle?" David says again. "You didn't have to change it just because I said-."

"No, David," I admit, closing the book, putting away my pencil and eraser, and pushing it all to the island's centre. "I didn't mean to draw that. When I drew the door, I drew exactly what I saw. I don't get it at all; I didn't know that I was seeing a figure... at least, I didn't know that I knew... The poor startled kid is just confusing..." I trail off, realising that I sound insane again. I wasn't going to tell David; I was going to pretend I was finally just a completely normal woman falling in love with an amazing man.

No such luck. I'm once again spewing words that could get me placed on strong meds and drive David and any chance at a relationship right out the door.

Instead of laughing at me, rolling his eyes or sighing in exasperation (all expected reactions), David gets to his feet and steps to the entrance of the hallway leading to the foyer. With his hands on his hips, he peers down its length towards the front door, the look on his face one of concentration.

"What are you doing?" I ask, joining him, and he casually drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I like how comfortable and natural this kind of behaviour has become. Since our return from the river, David has been taking my hand, giving me hugs, and affectionately kissing the top of my head whenever I'm within his reach. I try to be within reach as often as possible.

I know it's weird, but neither of us is questioning our fast-growing attachment or trying to resist it. I've never been this happy before. Well, I'm not all that happy when I see strange lurkers in my drawings, but I am happy standing in the shelter of David's arm, whatever the circumstances might be.