Down Went Ella

1: My Down Fall

"How to start, that is the question." I talk to myself.

Art has this way of turning me into a woman on a mission. And when I can't get the picture behind closed eyes onto the paper I drive myself to the point of ripping my own hair out.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" My mom walked through the door with a knowing smile plastered brightly on. Everybody in the family knows how I get sometimes.

I look her questioningly. "No..." But she's already got that smirk on and that look like she wants to pinch my cheeks. "Okay maybe a little." I sigh, waving my white flag high before the war even starts.

"Well I'm off to bed, try not to spend all night in here again." She says all motherly. So sweet, it's the kind of person she is.

I give her goofy grin. "Yeah, yeah. Night mom." I wave her off and out the door of my safe haven.

My father built my own little art studio when I was about ten. It's not much, more like a little shack but covered in my drawings and paintings from over the years. I always knew that painting was my passion, hell, my parents knew before me by the way I was attracted to crayons and finger paints.

"No. No. No. Ugh." I cry out with irritation. "The picture was right there!"

I know it's in my head, I can see it right behind my eyes, see it so clearly. If only I could get it onto the page. It's a beautiful beach side, waves crashing, rocks rough and rigid poking out against the rocking water. And there are so many colors of purples and pink, oranges and blues clashing together to make a magnificently breath taking sunset. It just needs to be on the page now.

I stood up quick, working my way through the art supplies to get to my stereo and turned up some Lana Del Rey loud. The perfect song Shades of Cool came on and my hand had a mind of its own. My brush in hand and my platter of paints just waiting to be splashed across the page.

It must of been hours because I had just gotten to my third layer upon layers of paints when I heard the door open. Great, mom wasn't going to be the happiest that I was up most of the night doodling my heart out.

"Sorry, I can't help it! This scene has been stuck in my head for days and it's final coming to life." I try and excuse my lateness.

My brows furrow, she doesn't stay quiet this long unless something's a big deal, which this isn't. I go to turn around, but before I can start a hand wraps around my throat and clamps my mouth shut with the other.

I try and scream, it's no use though. Kicking and silently screaming I try and break free, to do anything. Tears don't even break free I'm so in shock, I can't break through. Somewhat silently he rips me from my stool and hauls me to the other side of the room.

He so kindly sits his ass down on the ground, in the process bringing me along with. He grunts something when I dig my heel into his shin, but I can't make it out over the panicked screeching inside my head. For someone trying to kill me he sure has a firm but surprisingly gentle grip.

"Just relax, it will be easier that way." The intruder says so calmly it's unreal, how can anyone be calm in this moment!

I try and bite his hand with so much fear running through my veins as he pulls out something from his pocket. The sound of a cap releasing stops my endless struggles. What the hell was that? I try and say it out loud but it comes out as a bunch of nonsense, rushed mumbles.

"Shh, it's going to be alright." He whispers into my now wild dark hair.

And everything stops with a sharp pain in my neck, something like a prick of a thick needle. This can't be happening. It just can't be possible, my parents are twenty feet away for fucks sake! Then came the flood of cool, something like a fire of ice and I became as lax as rubber. Slowly the strangers arms released me, softly letting me rest on his chest as the warmth from the cold engulfed me.