Macabre: The portrait

The Portrait

Ugh! I despise group projects. It's always the same story: one person contributes minimally, never shows up on time, asks obvious questions, and then there's me. The one who ends up doing all the work. Why? Because I care about my grades and just want to get it done!

As I looked around, I realized I had worked with almost everyone in the group, and it had always been a struggle. That left me with only one option: Jake.

   Jake is the guy everyone picks on and calls a 'weirdo,' but I see something different. I've always been drawn to him. Believe it or not, he's a significant upgrade from the guys some of these girls are dating.

He has a nice posture, emerald eyes that remind me of the Amazon rainforest, brunette hair and an athletic build he usually hides under those oversized hoodies and sweatpants. I know everyone wants to work with me just to use me as their scapegoat. Well, not this time. I've made my choice and I'm ready to face my music.

"Any ideas for the project?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

"Huh? Uhm... Oh, the project," he responded hesitantly.

   It seems like Jake isn't used to people approaching him, considering how few people talk to him. It's interesting that I've never seen him work with anyone on past projects. Maybe he does them alone? But that's impossible, right? Group projects are meant to be done in groups.

"What if we gather shorts from documentary films and combine them like a montage, introducing them with our own logo?" he suggested.

I had never heard him speak for so long before. The only word I had heard him say was "Present," and that was only because it's mandatory during assembly.

"That's a great idea! We can work on it after classes so we can finish faster and spend less time planning in class."

"Cool," he responded.

   I didn't expect such a short answer. I hope he's not like the other classmates, and I won't be doing this project alone. We sat there in silence for a full 2 minutes, just staring at each other.      Awkward.

"Alrighty then, Jake." I made my way out of the class.

I stroll down the hallway, my eyes glued to my phone. The passing faces feel like an endless parade of glances. And there she is, my friend Elaine. Every time I see her, it's like a burst of happiness, you know? Like when you snuggle under a cozy blanket on a chilly day and feel that tingling sensation. Yep, that's exactly how it feels.

"Hey sister," I greet her.

"Good day, my queen," she responds.

   Elaine always knows how to boost my confidence with her words. That's why I adore her. I don't need a mirror when she's around. But there's one thing that bugs me about her: she's brutally honest. She tells it like it is, no beating around the bush.

"So... I've been assigned a group project, and I've decided to team up with Jake. I haven't worked with him before, so I thought it'd be a refreshing change," I mention as we stroll through the corridors.

"Oh yeah? Is it because you have feelings for him?" she asks, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"What? What do you mean..."

"It's always been like that with you, Melissa," she says, using my full name. "Every guy you've mentioned to me ends up the same way. You develop a crush, get disappointed, and move on. You never give yourself options. If a guy offers to carry your bag, you'll catch feelings for him," she adds.

"You know that's not true, Elaine," I retort, though deep down, I know she's hitting a nerve.

"Alright, we'll see. I'll call you when I get home," she says, opening her car's door.

Right, the project! It's time to focus and make this collaboration with Jake a success. Let's do this!

I couldn't help but wonder if suggesting we meet at his place was too much. I don't really know him well enough to gauge his comfort level.

"Here we are," he said, opening the gate.

The gate made a loud squeaking sound, causing the crows to scatter. Surprisingly, there were a lot of crows around here. I remember hearing that crows symbolize something, but I can't recall what it is at the moment. My mind is failing me. No neighbors in sight, just thorn trees and dead silence. "We can go in," he said, noticing my confusion.

I followed him through the front door, and he led me to the living room. The house was dusty, and you wouldn't be able to tell that people lived there. Wouldn't be surprised if there were mushrooms growing around here.

"Are your parents around?" I asked. "No," he replied, pausing for a moment before adding, "I live alone."

As we entered the living room, a large portrait of a woman greeted us from the wall. It looked like a picture taken in the 1900s, and the woman appeared to be in her 20s, I guessed. "Are they on a trip?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"They have passed away," he replied, surprisingly not sounding sad. He always had the same tone of voice, making it difficult to read his emotions.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! My condolences," I said, regretting my question.

"I'm over it now. It was a long time ago," he replied, leaving me with more questions. "Let me go fetch my laptop," he said, walking out of the room. His story and his house left me feeling uneasy. Clearly, there was a lot about Jake and his life that people didn't know.

As we looked at the ideas on his laptop, it felt like a dance of creativity. Each suggestion was a brushstroke on the canvas of our collaboration. It was like watching a hidden world unfold before my eyes, revealing a side of him that had been kept in the shadows.

"Let's call it a day for now. We've made incredible progress. We can continue tomorrow," he said, closing his laptop.

"Thanks for your time and for being so involved. Working with you has been a breath of fresh air. The other groups were just dragging me down," I expressed my gratitude. A small smile played on his lips, tugging at my heartstrings. Thankfully, my face didn't betray my emotions by turning red.

"Why did you choose to work with me?" he asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"I don't know. I wanted a change of pace, and I realized I hadn't really worked with you before. Or even had a proper conversation," I replied honestly. He nodded, a smile still lingering. "Do you know the lady in the portrait?" I asked, gesturing towards the wall.

"She is mother"

"She must have been beautiful. It's sad that she passed away," I said, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"Yeah," he replied, packing up his books. "Well, Jake I have to go now. We'll meet at my place tomorrow, right?"

"To save time, we can meet here." he suggested. I immediately knew he suggested that because he didn't want to meet other people.

" That sounds good to me," I agreed and made my way outside, and to my surprise, he walked me halfway home. Even in the silence, it felt comfortable and warm, like being in the presence of a kindred spirit.

The sun rose on a new morning:

Today felt like it was dragging on forever, just watching that clock tick. I was waiting outside the gate, waiting for Jake to show up when some guys walked past me, muttering something like, "She's a perfect ten, but she's dating a weirdo." That rumor followed me around all day. Elaine even mentioned it during lunch, saying someone saw us walking together yesterday. Can you believe that? I don't need anyone's validation to know I'm beautiful. I'm too mature to let it bother me. Let people think what they want!

Out of nowhere, Jake appears behind me. "Ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply. People can talk all they want. I'm not going to let it bother me. After another long walk, we head inside his house to our usual spot. But something feels off this time. It's like someone's watching me, but I can't see them.

"You want some water or orange juice?" Jake offers. I snap out of my thoughts and say, "Water."

I hear him opening the plastic seal, and I start adjusting my position. But as I reach for the bottle, everything goes black. I feel hands around my neck, squeezing the life out of me. And then... darkness.