I returned home, knocking at the door. I knew Alexandra was there and going to work later that night. She pulled the door open, her serious expression already giving away how ready she was to criticize me.
"I thought you had Art Club," she said.
"It's canceled this week," I responded, entering the house.
"Of course you had to join the most unorganized club in the whole school." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"It's a matter of what interests me," I argued, "and the club has had great turnouts, thank you very much."
"Got homework?" She raised her eyebrow at me. "Just get it out of the way now."
"Can I just relax?" I sassed her. "I just got home and you don't even welcome me home. You tear into me right away."
"Whatever," she shrugged, "Mom and Dad will tell you the same thing."
I rolled my eyes and went to my room. I shut the door, not even caring to discuss my day with Alexandra because she would judge not only what I did, but she would judge the people I hung around with. She was so judgemental over any and every aspect of my life, especially because my parents told her to attempt to reach out to me and help me to succeed as she did. As flattering as that was to her, she was so overly critical to such a point where I wanted to tune her out and do my own thing. I was not as academically gifted, and even when I was trying my hardest I could not manage to earn the brilliant grades Alexandra did even when she hardly tried at all. She was the success story to our family, the one who would gain positive attention from not only our parents but our entire community as a whole. She would one day save lives or discover new medical treatments if not cures for diseases.
I, however, was meant for either art or death.
In my room, I pulled my sketchbook out of my backpack and took a good look at Keira's birthday present. I was pretty impressed with the job I did this time and I hoped she would appreciate the effort I put into it and the times I had to sneakily add details to it in class. Most of my teachers called me out before the class, embarrassing me so badly that I had to hide my sketchbook in my backpack. I was grateful that none of the teachers had ever walked by and snatched it, as I had heard stories from Elizabeth about how her teachers did that, whether they took her or another student's drawing away.
I scanned the picture into my computer, editing it just so it transferred onto the website properly. Before I posted it, I privately messaged it to Keira; I wanted her to see it first. I awaited a response, seeing that she prioritized her studies above all else and was probably doing homework. I decided to draw a digital picture on my tablet to destress from my school day, even though my parents and my sister desperately wished for me to work on my homework the moment I walked through the door. As much as I wanted the homework out of my way, I could not properly work on it with everything about my school day running through my mind. I managed to get a picture of myself with Derek started before I heard a knock at my door. I quickly saved my sketch on my tablet, hiding the tablet so it would not be taken away. The door opened, revealing Alexandra.
"You don't even wait for me to answer?" I gasped dramatically, raising my eyebrows. "For all you know, I could have been naked."
"And just why would you be naked?" Alexandra stared at me with a blank face.
"I dunno," I shrugged, "I could have been getting ready to take a shower. Or to sneak out."
"Sneaking out under my watch is out of the question," she said, "and you undress in the bathroom to take a shower. I shouldn't have to argue with you over something so childish. Are you doing your homework?"
"Yeah," I lied.
"Funny, I don't see any worksheets or textbooks, Michaela." Alexandra saw through me and could always pick my lies apart, even when I was almost able to convince my parents to believe one of my lies. She also was a tattle tale, which was why I did not trust her with information I wanted secret from Mom and Dad.
"Well, I had to look something up on the computer." I tried to save myself.
"I never knew you did research on social media websites." Alexandra arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing the very depths of my soul.
"I was messaging a friend for help." I said.
"That's not research then." She looked at me like I was stupid. "If you're going to lie to me, at least be consistent. Or don't lie at all, stop wasting your time, and do your homework."
"Got it, boss," I said.
"Mom, Dad, and Austin will be home soon," she said, "so start your homework."
She left my room with the door ajar. I was irritated that she failed to shut it, groaning as I stood up to close the door. They all know that I preferred my door shut, but they all left it open whenever they left my room. I pulled out my math textbook to work on my math homework first because I struggled the most with math and wanted the harder subjects done first. The equations were so confusing that I ended up sighing and uttering a "Screw it" under my breath. I closed the book, intending to get back to it later and instead working on my history homework. The worksheet was so complicated that I wanted to tear it to shreds. I mentally cursed out Ms. Ashburn for failing to give us the notes we needed to answer the questions. My English homework simply wanted an analysis on Shakespeare, who was one of the most difficult, frustrating authors to understand. Alexandra, however, disagreed with me and believed that Shakespeare's literature was relatively simple to dissect and suggested that I lacked appreciation for finer, classic literature.
I heard the distant, familiar sound of the front door swinging open and my parents' voices. Alexandra put her scrubs on, getting ready for work. She made herself a quick, small dinner for her break later this evening. I heard her telling my parents she was off to work and saying goodbye to Austin.
"Be careful, Alex," Austin said, remembering what he and my parents discussed earlier that morning.
"Haha, okay, I will." I heard the smile in Alexandra's voice.
She was so much nicer to Austin than she was to me, and she often took him places to bond with him; she lacked interest in bonding with me, but I was fine with it because I preferred to be alone and in my room. She was into different things than I was and I could not relate to her all that well. Although I loved her because she was my sister, I did not care to talk with her because all she wanted to talk about was what I should be doing to prepare for the future, what I was doing wrong -- which was basically everything -- and how I could be doing it right, and career choices. Although she was sociable, she was secretly as introverted as I was, but she was better at hiding it and being around people. I, unlike her, was a socially awkward creature. Alexandra usually kept to herself unless somebody convinced her to come out of her shell.
Austin was shy, but he was generally conditioned in occupational therapy to learn how to socialize and to talk to people. He was prompted to speak about how he felt, even if he did not form complete sentences. He had typical little boy interests, such as super heroes, and I would talk to him about them sometimes and encourage him to draw pictures. I never forced my own interests upon him, however I wanted someone to somehow relate to. Even though he drew pictures and liked some of the movies I liked, I still could not relate well to him. I felt bad for shutting myself off from my siblings, but I was a loner who seeked escape from reality.
My parents heated up leftovers and told me to do the same. They and Austin ate around an hour before I finally did. When I ate, I quickly devoured my food so that I could return to my room as quickly as possible and so that I would not have to speak with them for too long. As awful as that sounded, I also did not enjoy talking to my parents because they were just as judgemental as Alexandra, if not more.
My homework was still unfinished, and I had some missing work from some classes because of how overwhelming my homework was. I found familiar ones under the "Missing Work" section on the Aeries website.
"Oh my God," I growled in frustration. "I did that one! The stupid teacher couldn't find it?!"
I felt the responsibilities pile up and wanted to cut them down, or to destroy myself so that I would no longer have to do them. I already wanted to die, so it was just another reason to do so. Because of how anxious I found myself after trying to make up an English assignment, I began to draw in my sketchbook to calm down. The gentle stroke of my pencil and my coloring untensils against the paper calmed my nerves, helping me breathe easier. The only things keeping me on edge were the assignments staring at me from my desk and the back of my mind and the thought of my parents coming in to check on me. They always barged in without knocking, which irritated me to no end because they had no sense of privacy and my personal space was violated. Alexandra at least knocked before entering my room, even if I did not tell her that it was okay to come in.
I went online and looked through fanfiction and fan art on DeviantArt. I criticized my own work, whether it was something recent or from when I first made my account. I opened a tab and looked at my Tumblr, seeing that I earned a few followers. On the Facebook tab I opened, I noticed that Keira messaged me back.
"Omg Michaela I love it! <3 Thank you!" The message read, putting a smile on my face. I looked at the newsfeed, seeing that she shared it on her page. The caption she put on the picture warmed my heart up even more: "One of my Internet friends drew this for me for my bday. So grateful for people like her <3".
The comments, some of which were her family and her real life friends, were cute. Whether they wished her a happy birthday or remarked that I was a good artist, it felt good seeing Keira have a strong support system. I left a comment under her post saying "Anytime <3 Happy birthday!".
I decided to research the myth I heard about earlier. I entered "the art world" in the search bar, seeing myth pages pop up along with discussion pages where people commented their beliefs on the phenomenon. On several pages, it discussed rituals, but said rituals ended up being spells that witches used in puritan times and in the dark ages. I searched "art world death" on the most credible looking myth page, finally finding a desired result.
"The World of Art", it read, "is a realm in which artists who have bled onto their artwork allegedly spend their afterlife and create artwork for eternity rather than spending it in Heaven or Hell.
"There has yet to be any proof that this world exists and most regard the idea as an occultist lie, though it is unknown from what occult or what individual it originated from. The speculation that this strange world exists, however, comes from the idea that artists have their own world trapped inside of them and express it through whichever artform they choose. Many artists have attempted to enter through means of suicide but those around them regarded them as mentally unstable."
Below the paragraph was a long list of names of people who allegedly killed themselves to see if the Art World was real. There were links by their names providing the whole story.
"Terrence Sawyer -- painter whose blood painted his coat red in his self portrait, slit his own throat"
"Mara Goodman -- painter whose blood spilled across the painting, concealing a representation of her own insanity which she drew, stabbed herself in the heart"
"Eli Dennis Morrison -- used his own blood to write a poetic short story, drowned himself"
"Unnamed twins -- blood seen on paper they were drawing on, stabbed themselves to escape persecution from the Salem Witch Trials"
"Penelope Schwartz -- high school student who hanged herself and left a picture behind, picture was of herself smiling with a drop of blood on the picture, blood drop looks like the mole on her face"
"William R. Stiller -- murdered other people and spilled their blood onto his picture, also spilled his own blood, later killed himself by electrocution"
"Manuel Reyes -- hoped for someone to accept him, loner, drew imaginary friends for him to associate with, bled all over said imaginary friends"
"Minh Ngo -- told shortly before her suicide that she was useless and dishonorable, drew herself saddened, slit her own throat onto the drawing"
At the end of the list, there was a disclaimer saying that the living still speculate on whether or not it exists. It basically warned that only the deceased (whether they entered it on purpose or by accident) would know, and unfortunately for us, the living, dead men tell no tales. My mind was filled with curiosity and I heavily considered joining these artists. Just how painful could it be to end it all? Even if the Art World ended up being a sham, I'd cease to exist and cease to disappoint or embarrass people.
I got back to my homework, trying to finish my current homework and my late work. I decided that I would finish it in the morning when I noticed that it was eleven o'clock at night. I brushed my teeth and set my alarm to go off at five o'clock despite my hatred for waking up early and the fact that I was more of a night owl. Alexandra attempted to talk me into taking a zero period so I could get more credits out of the way, but I refused to have to wake up that early every single day. I thought it was inhumane to have to wake up at seven o'clock to get ready for first period and could not bare to think of how hellish it would be to wake up at six thirty every day like Alexandra did. I drifted off into my dreams by the time I was planning out how to finish my homework when I woke up.