The System's Cruel Canvas

ng between us, a cruel, impossible demand. He wanted me to take the one thin

il inside me. "It's 'Hope.' Sarah has been working on a piece for months. I expec

I had from the System's constant torment. He wanted me

Chloe. Fulfilling this task will grant you a significant number of points tow

ign of the boy I grew up with, the boy who used to sit with me for hours in my studio, t

my mouth. "I'll do it." For his happiness. For the new

ual indifference. "Good. Don't disappoint me." He turned and left without another word, t

t he would watch me paint, his eyes full of a quiet longing. "Promise me you'll never stop, Chloe," he had whispered, his voice raspy. "Your art... it has

tudio, a place I hadn't been able to find peace in for a year. Every time I picked up a brus

my ears. I saw Sarah across the room, standing beside her easel. She was glowing, dressed in a beautiful white gown, a crowd of admirers su

there, standing next to Sarah, his arm possessively around her waist

d my painting. It was a canvas of pure, chaotic darkness. Slashed with angry, disjointed lines

ould feel their judgment, their pity, their disgust. I avoide

f vibrant, sun-drenched flowers, bursting with color and life. It was

mility. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "Art should inspire. It should lift us

er, Alex walked over to me. I braced my

arsh whisper that was only for me. "I never thought I could be more disgusted by you, Chloe. But you pro

turned and fled, pushing through the crowd, my vision blurring with tears. I stumbled out into the cold night air, gasping for breath, the sound of their applause for Sarah ringing in my ears. I reached for my phone,