Art can make you money, Art can make you cry.

Born again

I woke up at 5:00am
I packed my things, wallet, book, favourite brushes, paint, bandages (to patch up from last night), some money and some spare clothes.
I left opening the door slowly. When I stop and get an idea. I grab the oil out of my bag from the oil paint and rub it on the hinges.
Fingers crossed.
And it opens without disturbance. I smile and take the elevator.
My new daily morning, complete.
I slide smoothly into the truck as man with a familiar face and clothes comes out of the elevator.
Shit.
He runs toward the truck. As I twist the key.
Chug chug chug.
'Get out of the truck!' He jumps on the bonnet
Chug chug chug.
'Get out now!' He punches at the windscreen. A large crack spreads from the driver side to the passenger side, a splotch of blood appears wear he punches. I cover my face again.
Chug chug vooom. Thank god, again!
I chuck her I in reverse and do a fast backward U turn, and he slides off the bonnet. Before I change to drive, I look to see where he is. He must be knocked out on the floor, I change to drive. A shadow is cast over me
Smash.
I cover my face. Glass shards scatter over the seat, some stick into me. He'll grab me. He reaches in and grabs at my arm, digging his nails to my bone. His Jim Beam breath heats at my face, my eyes on fire.
It's a staring contest.
'Get, out, of, the, truck, Penny.' He speaks through gritted teeth, still not stopping the stink go right up my nose. It's silent.
Idea!
'Never!' I say jerking my arm down, watching his arm snap against the door.
'Aaaarrgh!' He yells, letting go of his harsh grip. I put the pedal to the metal and let the tires screech out of to garage.
Half way to Damian's, a red light shines on the whole world.
What the?
I blink and it's gone, but it comes back again. I pull over staring at the town. Nothing but red. I blink and rub my eyes, it's almost unbelievable. As I rub my eyes, my eyebrow yells in pain and I suck in a breath then look in the rear-view mirror. Blood covers half my face and a shard of glass sticks out of my eyebrow. I touch it and hiss.
I reach for my bag and the bandages, I pull out a shard from my leg and wrap it up, bandaid the cut from last night yank hard at my eyebrows hard and it comes out easy, blood spills all over my face, and splashes on the door. Before my face goes any whiter I wrap up my head to. I rub at the nail marks above my bandaid and sigh.
He's done worse.