The room... was beautiful, at least from an artist's perspective.
The walls were covered with canvases of different sizes, some filled with designs that others had made while some were left blank, waiting to be painted on.
In the far back corner, there was a wall that was filled with different colors of paints, the colors all over the spectrum, and some were even colors that I hadn't seen before.
"Well?" the doctor asked, seeming pleased with himself.
"This is all..." I trailed off and shook my head. "It's beautiful," I whispered.
Dr. Weiner nodded. "Yes, it is," he said. He cleared his throat and studied me. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
Still speechless, I shook my head, no.
"It's because a little birdie told me that you liked to draw," he replied.
Did Lucas talk to him about me?
I wouldn't be surprised if he did.
Dr. Weiner cleared his throat, and I tore my gaze away from the room and toward him. He had a soft look in his eyes while he studied me, and I raised an eyebrow in question. "Well?" he asked, and the eyebrow went higher. "Aren't you going to go ahead and go in?"
I turned my gaze away from him and looked back into the room.
The urge to paint filled my body, and I took a hesitant step into the room, followed by another and another until I stopped in front of a canvas.
Gently, as if I was about to cradle a newborn babe, I took one of the canvases down and walked to an easel where I set it down.
I could feel Dr. Weiner watching me while I moved through the room in a trance-like state, but I didn't care.
I grabbed the paints that I wanted and walked back to the easel with the sudden urge to paint.
"What are you going to paint?" Dr. Weiner asked after I made it to the easel.
I didn't respond.
"Hadley?" Dr. Weiner asked again, but I didn't respond. "Hmmm," he said and wrote something on his little notepad, but I didn't care.
I painted on the easel with the colors that I had selected and painted to my heart's content. I didn't question the fact that I didn't need to clean the brush that well after I was done with one color and went to another.
It magically did.
I was in a daze while I painted. I didn't care about anything or anyone.
All I cared about was the picture that was slowly taking form; the colors working well with one another.
As soon as I was done, I stood back and looked at it. I couldn't tell what the picture was in my state, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything at that moment, not even about the male that came near me and stood just behind my shoulder.
The sound of a clipboard falling out of someone's hands stirred me out of my daze, and I looked behind me to see Dr. Weiner staring at the picture I had drawn. His mouth was agape, and I could see fear, concern, and worry in his eyes.
Confused, I turned my head and faced the painting, and my heart dropped to my stomach.
Ethan...
His hard brown, almost black, eyes stared back at me. A smirk, filled with this evilness that I had never seen before, was on his face, and he looked dark and cold.
The whole picture was dark and foreboding, and I had a feeling that it would come at a time when that darkness was near if it wasn't near already.
In the shadows and a bit behind him were red eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. The eyes looked evil, and it looked like it was staring straight into my eyes, and they would have hypnotized me if I wasn't staring at a picture.
"Hadley..." Dr. Weiner said, his voice breathless.
I shook my head and looked at him. My heart pounded hard in my throat, and I was physically sick about what I had drawn in my trance like state. I was sick and scared because I had a feeling that they now knew where I was, whoever they were, and they were coming for me.
"Don't tell my dad."
***
I sat at the desk with the book in front of me the following day.
My mind was a whirlwind of questions, questions that I was afraid to ask the book but knowing that I should, especially because of the picture I had drawn during my therapy session. I had to ask the book, but I didn't have the confidence to do so.
The book turned warmer under my hand, and I blinked and blinked again before I looked at it. There was this deep anger that I didn't know it could possess, and I had no idea why. Look at what you drew, the book said.
I blinked and blinked again before I looked to see that I had drawn the picture that I had during therapy. I bit my lip and chewed on it, feeling nervous and anxious. I had no idea how it appeared, but it did.
Who is that? the book asked.
How did you get that out of me? I asked, not answering the book's question.
Magic, it replied. I coaxed it out of you. Who is that?
I narrowed my eyes and scowled. My heart pounded hard in my chest, and I felt anxious, and a bit offended. I was also hurt because I thought that I could trust the book with my secrets. It doesn't matter, I said. Why did you make me draw that?
The book seemed to sigh, and I had a feeling that it knew I wouldn't tell it the name of the person that I had drawn. You weren't paying attention, it said. I wanted to help you and answer any questions that you have.
But it is stuff that I have to already know something about, I reminded it. How can you help me if I don't know what the big deal about the drawing is or anything like that?
The book seemed to let out a frustrated sigh. Can you tell me what had happened? You don't have to give me the person's name, but can you tell me why you drew the picture?
I furrowed my brows and shrugged. I don't know, I replied. As soon as I entered the drawing room, I was in a trance like state. I didn't even know that I drew the picture until I was done, and Dr. Weiner had dropped his clipboard when he saw it.
Who is Dr. Weiner?
Declan Weiner. He's... my therapist. I also know that he is from Ilyrian, but I don't know what he is.
The book was silent while it absorbed the information. Do you know who else is from Ilyrian that you had come into contact with?
Are you going to tell me if they are or not? I shot back.
If the book had a face, I knew it'd look at me unimpressed. I don't need to tell you that, for you already know.
A shiver went down my spine, for the book was right; I knew who was from Ilyrian and who wasn't.
The book became hot underneath my touch, and I looked at it. Well? it asked. Who is from Ilyrian?
I sighed and nodded. The Headmaster is from Ilyrian, I wrote, and so are Serena, Mr. Greene, Adrian, Dr. Wilson, and Mrs. Carten.
The book was pleased with the list. Is there anyone else? it asked.
I chewed my lip and went through the people that I "knew." I knew that it was not talking about my family, for it was a given that we were from Ilyrian, especially since my father was the king.
An image of Mrs. Treat filled my brain, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was from Ilyrian or if she had just heard about my father, which was why she acted like a creep. Were they from Ilyrian? I wondered.
An image of Liam on Gallant last night flickered through my mind. After I had finished therapy, I went to the stable to check on Vannar, and Liam had asked me to help him, so I did.
When he accomplished what I had asked him to do, he looked at me and smiled. He was so proud of himself for doing what I had wanted that it made his face bright.
The sun had hit his hair, and it was breathtaking. It had taken my breath away, and all I wanted to do was draw what I had seen.
My hand itched, and all I wanted to do was draw a picture of that scene. I wanted to draw how he looked, especially since he looked like a prince on a "white" horse.
The book grew warmer underneath my touch, and I looked to see the word, draw.
And so, I did. I drew the image that I had in my mind. I didn't care about any colors or whatever because I had a feeling that the pen would help with that.
I just drew Liam and the way he had looked at me with pride and pure happiness.
As soon as I was done with the picture, I took a deep breath and looked at it to see that it did look that night. It was light and made me just as breathless as it had when it happened.
The picture slowly disappeared into the book where it would be safe, and one word appeared.
That word was:
Richard.