The Art Lesson

I felt a sudden jerk as though my spirit were being pulled from my body, heard the harsh whisper of my name, and then gasped at a tearing in my shoulder. A warmly lit brick room gradually came into view. I had no idea where I was, but I knew with whom I was. He was holding my arm stiffly behind my back. I tried to pull away, but found him unyielding. He’d summoned me and I felt his breath against my ear.

“I gave you time, to walk to the beach…” Constantine’s voice was ice. “I gave you time, time to walk, time to talk with your people...”

My heart began to pound. I pulled at my arm, trying to free it when I felt a stinging slap across my face.

“I watched as someone else did things to you that I long to do.” Constantine spoke lower as he continued to twist my arm.

I grimaced in pain. “Stop… please,” I stammered.

“I was patient, and I gave you an excuse to come willingly to me, yet you resisted… Now you struggle,” he said, his voice rising.

“You called me a liar,” I hissed.

Constantine laughed harshly, and then pulled me sharply toward him. “Are you daring me to expose our relationship, miss? I will pop your arm out of its socket it I need too.”

I could feel my skin begin to warm with my anger, flame beginning to shimmer out from my palms. He grabbed my throat with his other hand, choking the air out of me.

“I will call you a liar, a bitch… whatever I feel like,” he said in a deadly quiet voice.

“I hate you...” I spat out, and my skin flared as I tried to pull away with all my might.

His fingers bit into my throat. “Now tell me, miss… do you think I care?”

Tears began to blur my vision. “What kind of a monster are you?” I gritted out.

He shook my head with the hand around my neck. “One who will not take crap from you. Do you understand?”

My throat ached as the pressure continued. “What am I to you?” I croaked.

Finally, Constantine released his grip around my neck. “Nothing but filthy trash, if you aren't mine.” He turned my body to face the balcony as I continued to struggle. “Look out there. What do you see? Everything is either trash or art. The trash must be swept away before the beauty can be shown. The excess must be chiseled away to let the art appear.”

“I... am... not... trash... “ I spat.

Constantine jerked my arm up tightly. “Do you want to know what you are to me when you are so disobedient? You right now, are the excess I must break down.”

I pulled as hard as I could with the whole weight of my body, the flames licking down my arms to my boots, and up over my shoulders, over my head, as they shimmered gold to pink to violet, and then dark purple. “I know what I am...” I warned.

He let go and pushed. “Then go, be what you are.... “

The force of his hand pushing combined with my pulling, and I tumbled face first into the floor, my lip hitting the wood and splitting.

“No matter what you think you are,” Constantine said, “I see something better inside you. But go... accept yourself as simply for what you are…”

I pulled myself up, wiping the blood from my lips with the back of my hand. My head was spinning with confusion. “Better?” I asked.

“I said go.” He spoke evenly, and then stepped away.