I go to college, and of course one of the subjects you have to take there is art. Now, when we do art we get put in pairs. My partner is named Shawn, he is a really shy person with a lot of family problems. He's not exactly sociable most of the time, but this assignment was different. I don't know how, but I must have done something to really piss him off...
I was eating lunch when Shawn came up to me, and said art was starting in two minutes. I was surprised, he didn't normally say a word. Suddenly the bell rang, more loudly than usual. It was almost enough to make you go deaf. Walking into art class, I saw that we had a substitute teacher, who introduced himself as Mr. Holman. When we were all seated, he barked harshly at us, "Draw something better this time. I trust you. " He then put a needle on each of our desks. I asked what it was for, and he told us to "get ideas" from it. And just like that, he left without another word. Shawn poked my shoulder and I turned around to him. "Hey, come to my house for this assignment." he said quietly, with a smile. "Sure. Uhh...three O'clock sound good?" He nodded, turned around and walked out of the classroom, so I put my needle in my backpack and left as well.
By three, I was eating lunch and getting ready to drive to his house. I set off soon after, curious to see what it was like in his neighbourhood.
Just my luck, he lived in the ghetto. As I drove fearfully through the streets, I heard gunshots and caught a glimpse of several hooded figures beating up a smaller figure in an alleyway. With a sigh of relief, I finally reached his house and got out of my car, walking hastily up to the door. I opened the door slowly, calling out "Hello? Shawn? It's me, are you here?" I surveyed the first room I came to, and found very little other than piles of papers stacked high in every corner. I looked on the wall and raised my eyebrows as my eyes settled on a rather pornographic poster. Shawn walked in and smiled at my expression. "You can have it if you want, I'll send more pictures in your mail. I know your address." I think I saw him wink very slightly, but I couldn't be sure.
I walked home since my car was broken into, which was no surprise. Like the idiot I am, I didn't report it to the police, but what was the point? It was a box car from the '90s which I got for free from a contest. When I got home, my dog was barking and yowling like a crazed monster, and started clawing my leg frantically. His food bowl was full, his water was fine and I had already let him outside a while ago, so I had no idea what was wrong. But something caught my eye, a miniscule shiny object in his mouth. I somehow got him to calm down long enough to remove it, and I was shocked. It was a needle.
I was awoken from a somewhat troubled sleep by a call from Shawn. I ignored it and texted him, telling him to text me instead. He told me to look in my mailbox, so I grudgingly pulled myself out of bed and went to see what was so important. A single piece of paper was folded up inside. I opened it up and it was disgusting, a gruesome drawing of a woman being raped by an old man. I called Shawn up and he just said "I hope you're not grossed out already, they're only going to get worse." Scared and confused, I headed off to work a while later. When I returned, I was exhausted, and not up to dealing with anymore creepy behaviour from Shawn.
My phone rang. Seeing that it was Shawn, I reluctantly answered it. He ordered me in a gruff voice "Go and check your mail, or I'll come in there and kill you." Those were his exact words. I wanted to call the police, but I was terrified that he could get to me before they could. So, I hurriedly darted out to my mailbox, snatched the paper from inside it and bolted back inside. I was petrified at what might be inside, but I had to open it. I immediately regretted my decision, as my eyes were met with the sight of a dead child being fingered by Shawn.
I called Shawn, but it went straight to voicemail. After several unsuccessful attempts to contact him, I decided to finally call the police. They soon hunted him down and arrested him.
As he was led away to the back of a car in handcuffs, he glowered at me. I shifted uncomfortably as I watched him out of my window, he was really mad. But unfortunately for me, I soon discovered that he hadn't been the one sending those drawings.
Because the next day, there was another one.
The new picture I got was a man brutally cutting open a vagina and taking out the woman's entrails through the jagged hole. I went down to the police station to tell them that he couldn't possibly be the guilty one. They released him, and I started gushing about how sorry I was. A few minutes later, I plucked up the courage to ask if he had really painted the pictures. I turned away for just a moment, but when I looked back he had disappeared.
I saw Shawn run outside and hop into a car with a man in a ski mask. I had to have answers, even though I was seriously fearing for my life at this point. I sprinted as fast as I could, and just managed to wrench the door open and clamber in as the tires squealed and the car took off at an incredible speed. Shawn and the man struggled and tried to shoot me, and they barely missed me by a hair. Shawn eventually got me pinned in the back seat until we came to a dingy-looking house. They led me inside roughly, and the whole place was filled with tubes and vials, and it stank of decay. "How do you like our crackhouse?" Shawn whispered right in my ear. He kicked me to the floor, and at least four big, scar-faced men soon came in, all carrying guns. With one more sharp kick to my head from Shawn, I blacked out. The next few hours were a blur as I faded in and out of consciousness, but all I can really remember is waking up the next morning.
I looked groggily around at my surroundings, and my eyes widened as I sat bolt upright in shock. I was back in the art classroom. I was battered and bruised, but all things considered I didn't feel that bad. I could even hear the morning's first few students milling around somewhere not too far away, the sound of doors creaking, a bird chirruping outside. I lay flat on my back for a moment, filled with relief. The feeling was instantly replaced my horror as I looked at the ceiling for the first time.
There, in stunning detail, rendered in blood, was a painting of Shawn. And me. Me with my entrails dripping out, hung to a barbed wire fence by my intestines. And him, that demon, that hellish monster, serenely smiling next to me.
My phone vibrated. It was a text from Shawn.
"Do you like it? I think the next one will be even better, especially if you model for me. See you in art class :)"