Today was one of those days when Ari could feel the ink swallowing her until she couldn't breathe.
She stared at her painting and the urge to set it on fire came over her. The perfect white canvas was marred with black, a woman with an unidentified face with limbs that had been cut off, with chains tying her entire body— including her throat and only the strands of her hair free and flying above was screaming in agony.
Her eyes bled. But it was not blood that dripped down her cheeks, but tar-like tears.
How it was possible for black on black to be so clear, Ari couldn't understand. All she knew was that she could see the tears of the woman much more clearly than she could see her face.
Or maybe she didn't want to see it.
She pulled out her phone and looked at the empty message box. Nicolai hadn't sent any other message other than the fact that he was going to be busy today which was why he was not going to join her on the run.
