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{This is a four years after Bloody Painter's incident at school in his origin. He is now 18.}

It was finally Saturday night. You've been looking forward to this night since last Saturday. Just a few months ago, your friend talked you into taking an art class with her. You weren't good by any means, but it sounded relaxing. Plus it meant more time with your best friend.

Your phone vibrated. Reaching to the nightstand next to you, you unlocked it, reading a text from your friend:

You almost ready? Instructor Smith is probably waiting for your cute self (;

You laughed at the text, blushing slightly as you replied:

Oh you hush. He was just admiring my drawing last time. That's why he stayed by me most of the time.

Quickly, your friend responded:

Yeah... "admiring you drawing" my ass. He was totally checking you out.

You rolled your eyes. Dating wasn't anything you were interested in, especially your art instructor.

You replied:

Not interested. I'll be ready soon. Come get me in 10 minutes.

You set your phone down and sighed, running your hands through your hair. Standing up off of your bed, you made your way to the closet. You lived in a one bedroom apartment. There was no need for the extra space when it was just you.

Reaching in the closet, you pulled out your favorite pair of jeans and a simple sweater. Slipping out of your lounge clothes, you put your new clothes on. You turned around and walked over to your mirror. Gripping the edge of your sleeves in the palm of your hands, you twisted around keeping your feet in the same position.

"Good enough." You sighed, leaving the mirror.

Walking out of your room, you grabbed your small purse off of the kitchen chair and slid it on your shoulder. The meeting for your art club was in about ten minutes and your friend was due to arrive at anytime.

You walked out of your apartment, locking it behind you. As you left the building, you noticed your friends vehicle in the road.

"Come on, slow poke! Let's not keep them waiting!" She laughed.

"It's ten minutes to seven. I'm sure we'll make it there in time." You hollered back, walking down the path to the road.

Opening up the vehicle door, you slid in and sat down, closing the door behind you.

"Buckle up." Your friend commented.

You groaned, grabbing onto the seatbelt, "Yes, mom." You said sarcastically.

"Safety first." She reminded you as she started driving.

You rested your forehead on the car window. With every slight bump, your head would knock against it.

"Do you think Kimberly is going to be there?" You asked, turning to your friend.

"Who cares if she is? You need to learn to just ignore her, (Y/N). I know she's been down your throat a lot lately, but this is unlike you. Usually you're the type to not give a shit about what other people say and you'd fight back. Hell, just ask Tommy about that one. I'll bet his ballsack still hasn't dropped out of his stomach after that kick." She laughed.

"He deserved it." You muttered. It was true. Nobody ever got in your way. In fact, you were almost too merciless for your own good. If anybody ever stepped on your toes or (F/N)'s toes, you made sure to stomp their face in. But Kimberly was different. She wouldn't just get under your skin. It was almost as if she injected her toxic self into your blood stream and attempts to claw her way out at any moment she gets.

"If she's there, I'm leaving." You mumbled.

"Oh come on! Where did (Y/N) go? The one who doesn't give a single damn. I want her back." (F/N) pouted.

"I am still here! I just get sick of her snooty comments. She really gets to me."

The vehicle pulled up into a parking spot outside of the cabin that the meetings were held at.

"Then say something. Tell her to leave you alone. Just quick dwelling and pouting over her. You're giving her the best reaction by cowering away." (F/N) grinned.

You rolled you eyes. It really wasn't true. Kimberly strived on fighting and arguing; drama to be more specific. Shutting up and leaving her alone was the best option, yet you're still getting her snarky attitude.

You opened the car door and stepped out; your fall boots hitting the dirt path. (F/N) was waiting for you at the cabins entrance. Behind you a car pulled up. Judging by the sounds of the music, you knew almost immediately who it was- Kimberly.

Putting a little pep in your step, you hurriedly walked to (F/N), linking your arm with hers. Entering the cabin, you looked around.

It was very spacious and bright. Only a couch was on the wall in front of you. To the right was a fridge, stove, and kitchen table. It looked simple, yet it had a beauty to it. Painting easels with large canvases were in the middle of the living room. Paint, pencils, colored pencils, markers and even crayons were all laid out strategically on the kitchen table.

"Move it, (Y/N)." Kimberly pushed passed you, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing behind her.

You ducked your head down, biting your tongue.

"A simple 'excuse me' would've been nice." (F/N) sneered.

"I don't recall talking to you." Kimberly shot back, spinning around and facing you and (F/N).

"You weren't, but she is my friend and I don't appreciate you talking to her like that." (F/N) took a step forwards.

"Ladies, let's not shed any blood in the cabin."

You spun around and came face to face with Lonnie Smith, the instructor. You only knew very little about him, such as he just recently rented this cabin and that he came from a completely different city that was quite a ways from here. You also knew he was eighteen. Quite young to be an instructor, but he was so good at what he does.

"Wasn't planning on it." Kimberly giggled, shooting him an innocent look.

"Good. Can I get everyone to their easels now? I have a perfect idea for what we could all interpret to paint tonight." Lonnie smiled at you and walked over to the front of the room.

There were five of you in the painting club. You, (F/N), Kimberly, Anita, and Kelton. Anita and Kelton were a married couple that reminded you of hippies. Everything from the way they talked, dressed and even painted screamed 'psychedelic hallucinogens'.

Lonnie's spot to draw and sketch was on the couch, well, that was when he was participating. Usually, he would give a quick speech to help us get inspiration for a painting or drawing and afterwards you all shared what you drew and why it inspired you. It sounded pretty lame, but it was actually really calming.

"Is everyone ready?" Lonnie asked, staring at each one of you. When his gaze landed on you, you quickly looked away, trying to avoid the gaze of the ocean blue eyes.

"I know I'm ready." Kimberly announced.

Lonnie looked over at her. "That's good." He then began looking around and pacing between everyone in the room. "Think of the last person who you had a conflict with. I am not asking you to draw that person, in fact, don't draw anybody unless it is yourself. I want to be able to look at your portrait and feel the emotions that you felt in that very moment. Whether it was anger, sadness, hurt; don't tell me, show me." Lonnie stopped near you. "You may begin anytime now."

Kimberly and the married couple raced over to the table, grabbing the utensils they needed. (F/N) was facially walking up behind them. You were staring at your canvas, trying to think of a way to portray your emotions.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Lonnie asked.

"Huh?" You looked at him. "Oh, yeah. I'm good. Just... just thinking."

"Don't think too hard, your mind will begin to wonder. Paint the first thing you thought of, even if it was super simple or complex. Just go with what you thought of right away." Lonnie flashed a small smile at you.

The first idea that popped into your head was simple and consisted of one color- red.

"I'd rather nobody saw my emotions." You stifled a wry laugh.

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can take the easel and go and paint in the corner over there. You don't even have to share with us if you don't want to." Lonnie chuckled, nodding to the empty back corner.

You nodded and picked up the canvas. Lonnie grabbed the easel and followed you to the corner. He set it up and you gently placed the easel down on the wooden frame.

"Go get what you need now." Lonnie winked at you quickly before turning and walking away.

You walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed a paper plate and squirted some red paint on it. Grabbing the thickest paintbrush you could find, you began to make your way back to your easel.

"Yeah. I was thinking about drawing my feelings towards someone that seems to bump heads with me a lot lately." Kimberly giggled to Lonnie.

"That would be good. I'm kind of anxious to see the final result." Lonnie replied as he walked over to the married couple.

You were standing by your easel now, staring at the blank canvas. What you had in mind was almost a waste of a perfectly empty canvas, but he did say he didn't care how simple it was.

You dipped out paint brush into the red paint and lifted the brush up, watching as the excess paint dropped back onto the plate. Pressing the brush to the canvas, you made a straight vertical line. Next to it, you did the same thing.

You listened to Lonnie as he talked to the married couple. Anita was 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing at Lonnie's ideas to help the flow of her paintbrush. You let out a sigh, making another line in a different spot.

"What makes you so special that you get to stand my by yourself?" Kimberly walked over to you, holding her plate of vibrant paint colors.

"I'm not getting any special treatment, Kimberly. Lonnie just put me over here." You said softly, eyes locked on the floor.

Kimberly snorted and pretended to trip, the plate of paint falling on your sweater.

"Oops." She said sarcastically.

"Kimberly! Get away from her!" Your friend snarled, dropping her painting supplies as she ran over to you.

"It was an accident." Kimberly lies through her teeth.

"It was not!" You shouted back, feeling the anger build up inside of you.

"I think the meeting is over for the day." Lonnie piped up as he walked over to you with a handful of napkins.

"I was leaving anyways." Kimberly snarled. She turned around, her hair whipping behind her as she left the cabin, slamming the door shut.

"Well..." Anita drew out, "We'll be back next week. Peace."

You took the napkins from Lonnie as the married couple left.

"Let's go, (Y/N)." Your friend sighed, grabbing her purse.

"No." You looked up at Lonnie. "If you don't mind, I'll stay behind and help you clean up."

"You need to change your shirt." Your friend said, walking towards the door.

Lonnie kept his eyes locked on yours, "I'll let her borrow one of mine."

Your friend giggled, "I'll deal with Kimberly if she's still out there. If I were you guys, I'd lock the door behind me. She's nuts." With that, she closed the door, leaving you and Lonnie alone.

"I'll go get that shirt." Lonnie chucked.

You nodded as he began to walk away. The napkins were already full of paint, but your sweater still had more on it. You sighed, looking at your painting. Taking your thumb, you dabbed it on the blue paint that was on your shirt and brought it up to the canvas, drawing a short line of paint under one of the vertical lines.

"It'll probably be big on you, but it should work for now." Lonnie walked over to you, handing you the shirt.

He peeked over at your painting and his once crystal blue eyes clouded gray.

"What?" You asked as he stared intently at the canvas.

He spoke not a single word, but stared at the canvas. His fair skin seemed paler than usual.

"Lonnie?" You spoke softly, reaching your hand over to him and placing it on his arm.

As soon as your hand touched him, his head snapped and looked at you, "Why did you paint this?"

Pulling your hand away quickly, you felt almost embarrassed. "I-I don't know. It was the first thing that popped into my head. I'm sorry for wasting a canvas. I can buy you a new one."

"It's not that, (Y/N). I don't want a new canvas. I want to know what made you paint that. Who?" His eyes darkened as his face remained grim.

You hesitated before responding. "Kimberly. She makes me feel like this I guess. She's so bossy and rude! I usually don't let people get to me like that, but she always does! She's...she's...shes-"

"A bully?" Lonnie cut you off.

"Well, I was going to use a different word," you admitted, "but yes."

Lonnie turned around and walked over to the door, locking it. He walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning forwards and putting his face in his hands.

Hiding behind the easel, you quickly changed out of your paint smears sweater and into his shirt. He was right, it was quite large on you, but comfortable and it'll do for now.

"Lonnie, what did I do wrong?" You asked, stepping out from behind the easel.

When you looked at Lonnie, he had a hand underneath the couch, pulling out a shoe box.

"(Y/N), have you heard about that murderer that they haven't caught for four years now? The Bloody Painter as they called him?" He asked, running his finger along the smooth cardboard.

"Y-yeah. They haven't heard anything about him in a few months." You recalled, staring at Lonnie.

"Isn't it weird that when I moved to town, the killings stopped?" He chuckled, taking the lid off of the box.

"I mean, I guess. I'm not quite following what you're saying, Lonn-"

"The names Helen." He cut you off, pulling a thin round object out of the box.

"Huh? Helen? You're confusing me."

He tilted his head down and pressed the circular object to his face, putting a strap behind his head. When he lifted his face back up, you gasped. Black eyes and a crimson red smile were painted on the mask---the same way the Bloody Painter's mask is.

You shrieked and ran for the door. You jiggled the handle and tried to unlock it, but nothing would budge.

Helen sighed from behind you, still seated on the couch, "It won't unlock, (Y/N)."

"Why not!?" You yelled, spinning around and facing him.

"That doesn't matter. What does matter to me right now is why you painted that on the canvas."

"I told you! It's how I felt." You yelled, tears forming in your eyes.

"Of all the things to express emotions with, you chose a frowning face with a smeared thumbprint tear. Do you remember what the Bloody Painter paints by each of his victims?" He asked, talking about himself.

"A smiling face?" You questioned your answer as panic begins to build up in your stomach.

"Correct. Your frowning face reminded me of what I do. Do you remember what the victims were specifically?" He asked as he stood up and began to walk to you.

You took a few steps back until your back was pressed against the door. "I-I-I don't remember!" You cried out.

"Bullies." Helen chuckled from beneath his mask. "Meaning you're safe, but Kimberly, I'm afraid not."