Paint it Black {Gryphon}

When they told him that they wanted him to paint something more appropriate that could make money for the future, he threw a bottle of paint towards them. The paintings on the walls were his heart and soul, but their harsh words only created black paint that covers the pieces, covering his heart with a sheet of black paint that abuses him and tears him apart. Word for word his heart sinks into the ground. The weight of the world he's stuck living in upon his shoulders. This was a norm for the artist haunted with dreams of a hell, just another piece of his pathetic life that he faces in everyday. As his mother speaks, his heart shatters.

"We've supported you all this time. We just want you to do something more friendly and not so dark and evil."

The words shatter his soul and the pieces are lost to the void of nothingness that was the mansion that they lived in. His father only stands there smiling like an evil presence with devilish eyes that pull at the chains that bind Muse to the earth below his feet. His mother's hair snakes that hiss at him with venom upon their tongue. Eyes that could never be met or he'd turn to stone, lost to the void that threatened to swallow him whole every day. They tear his heart out and crush it. An evil duo of the devil and a snake woman who pull him into a hell called reality. As he threatens to angrily leave his parents behind in the room, his curiosity gets the better of him. If he was to die, it'd be because of his curiosity for the unknown. The curiosity that eats up his insides begs him to stand still and endure whatever fate his parents would put him through.

His father's evil grin disappears as he stares to some unknown distance. Muse threatens himself to walk away. Muse feels his heart beat faster as his feet threaten to move. The tone of his father is deadly like it always was. Words that he can hear from behind closed doors when they thought he wasn't listening. A waste of air that escapes their lungs when they talk about him. "We asked someone to come over for you to create a portrait of." The words pile onto his chest like a weight that pushes down with every syllable that comes from his father's lips. He feels a shout of disapproval threatening to push from his throat. Silence was deafening. The silence was his friend and enemy. Always there when he needed them, but never there when he wanted him.

Soon enough he can feel his mother's arms pushing him into his room, where he keeps the canvas and the paints that they buy him. State of the art equipment that they had taken so much time and care into getting. As he is locked up in his room, like a princess waiting for her prince, he can feel the words of conscious speak. Run Muse. Run. There was nowhere to run. Windows that existed within the walls of his room were high above, shining light down upon the room. Never able to be opened by the likes of human beings.

The door opens soon enough for the man, whose muscles could crush his head and watch the blood spill out, to walk in. Something about him echoes something deep within the man. As his father and mother wave to him and shut the door behind the man. Muse isn't scared, but terrified of the stranger that his parents had allowed into his room. He looked around the same age as himself, but knowing his parents, they were trying to make Muse have a friend. A del made by two pairs of parents about children needing something more, or some other philosophical bullshit that he's heard from them before. Silence was against him in this moment. Muse's voice cuts the air like a knife.

"Er hello. I guess you're supposed to be my model that I am supposed to paint."

Muse feels his heart beat in his chest. A sense of fear pulling at his chest threatening to pull him to the floor and cower away from the muscular man. This wasn't what he was going to do. All he could do was face this head on like he's done most of his life. His parents letting strangers into the manor. It has happened before and everytime, Muse ignores them. The only catch was that the guy in front of him looked nothing like a person that his parents would typically allow in. Usually, they were richer or snobber than the normal person, but the guy in front of him was rather poorer and possibly some sort of murderer. If he was to be murdered there, at least it'd be by an attractive male. Muse speaks up again.

"I'm Muse. We don't have to do this if you don't want to? My parents are kind of dicks to me and pull stunts like this all the time."