*Olivia*
Fuses sizzled behind my eyes, and my whole body visibly shook as I practically threw my paintbrush at the canvas. The paint of mixed reds and purples splashed across my cheeks, but I didn't care.
I felt like a woman on a warpath as I took every stupid emotion I had and slapped it onto the stretched-out piece of textile. The table underneath had already taken some battle damage from the aftershock as each explosion of color spilled over. If I lifted up the canvas, there would no doubt be an imprint from where it had been lying.
My painting wasn't even good—just a mishmash of colors thrown everywhere, lights and darks competing on either corner, spreading and stretching. If you looked closely, maybe you could see a face in the middle, but otherwise, it was just blobs.
My fingers trembled as I held the old brush in my hand. It was falling apart due to being left in paint cleaner too many times, but it did the job.
