Rosegold | ONC '24

My Art, My Pride

What's the worst part of being human?

Emotions? Relationships? Obligations? Responsibilities? Race for survival?

Well, for her, it was being human itself. Robin. She didn't hold that name dear. She had no identity, nothing to this name. Nothing to this presence she had oh so carefully cultured. Something which rose fear in people whom she wanted to scare. All but one.

Her one and only darling was never afraid of her. She wasn't repulsed by the smell of blood when she washed her or when their bodies melted together. She didn't so much as flinch when Robin pulled her hair or painted her skin crimson. And Robin longed to see fear in those lifeless eyes. So much that she was going to keep killing until it was time to kill Rose herself.

The premier was over hours ago and it was going to be morning in a few hours. Robin was back to wandering the streets. It was her hour to shine after all. She had worn her red silk dress and black mask. Her hair, as black as the night, was chopped short till her shoulders and the bangs fell over her eye which wasn't under the mask. They were adorned with diamond ornaments that resembled butterfly wings, matching her bracelet and ring. She liked looking beautiful, and beauty liked her. The aura of stun kissed her every inch and made your eyes stay transfixed on the perfection that was her. If you asked Robin, she would say it was just her confidence alone. Head held up, back straight, and eyes ahead, who would dare look down on you?

But as much as beauty had its pros, it also had its cons. After all, beauty attracted fools like light attracted pests. She heard a filthy whistle from somewhere behind her and ignored it. It wasn't like you could ever train rabid dogs. So you let them be. Let them be until they come at you with those grubby paws and dirty desires. That's when you step on their foot, kick their balls, and make them fall where they belong.

Robin smiled to herself before pushing the wooden door and stepping inside the warm establishment. The place was called Stardoom. Rumors said the owner was a sour man who got rejected in several auditions and with nothing left for him to make money, he started this shady bar. And now all fallen soldiers of the acting industry hanged out here now and then.

The place smelled of booze and cigarettes, mostly. People's rowdy laughter could be heard from different tables, followed by the clicking of glasses and hootings. There were all sorts of people, young, old, good-looking, not-so-good-looking, depressed, tired, and the worst of all, hopeful.

In this rotten world, the worst thing to be was hopeful. Hoping that a deity will shine the divine light on you one day and your fate will flip magically, hoping that a rich director will see your talent and offer you a role, hoping that your lover will be with you even if you fail a hundred times or hoping that trying to harm yourself will somehow relieve your pain. Hope, was the deadliest weapon one could use to break another.

Instead, for you to achieve what you want, you wear your high heels and step outside your comfort zone, kick the door behind your back, and walk in a random direction until the direction becomes a road to success. That's how your fate changes, just like Robin's did when she swung a beautiful fork right through the ugly eye of Vanessa Camlett a few months ago.

Why you ask? Well, no one but Robin can answer that.

Twirling her red dress, she sat by the bar, placing an elbow on the table and propping her chin on the palm of her hand.

"How may I serve this lovely lady today." The young bartender smiled, bowing a little.

Robin smiled slightly, "A Vodka will do."

"On it."

The boy had golden curls and a pair of calming green eyes, he had a thin but muscular build. Your typical college dropout. He looked cute, Robin declared.

"Oliver, isn't it?" She questioned, eyeing him up and down.

"Oh, I-I didn't realize you were a regular?" He spoke the last word a bit unsurely.

"Hm, I guess you didn't notice me after all. Can't blame you, I am too good at hiding." She smirked, holding on to the drink that was passed her way.

Oliver chuckled embarrassedly, "My apologies, I am a bit caught up these days."

"Life problems?"

"Yeah, you can say that." While he was still smiling, his eyes looked a bit sad. Not like Robin cared.

She was just in the bar to celebrate her latest artwork. It had been released for the public to fawn over. Not only that, she had made it to the front page too!

"Well, you look like," He gestured to her, "You were in a ball or something. Enjoying the night?"

She shrugged, "Nah, I am just celebrating myself. You should try doing it. Feels great."

He looked a bit taken aback but the surprise on his face was immediately covered by a genuine smile, "I don't have anything worth to celebrate myself for. But by the looks, I am happy for you."

Robin tilted her head, "Save your happiness for yourself. Don't waste it on others."

Oliver laughed but not in a harsh way, "Happiness is not limited though, it multiplies on sharing."

"Whatever kid." She rolled her eyes but the small smile didn't leave her lips.

"So, may I ask what good happened today?"

"My art got realized. Got a great review over it too." Robin grinned sweetly.

If possible, Oliver's smile brightened even more. "So you are an artist?"

"I-"

Someone from the left side tapped the counter, taking Oliver's attention, "Give me a sec."

Robin's smile fell from her face as a foreign sadness shadowed her eyes, "I wanted to be."

Oliver, after serving to the whole bunch of drunken salarymen, came back to Robin's previous spot, he was panting but smiling brightly. But even though he wanted to talk more with the mysterious woman, the chair was empty, and a fifty-dollar bill beneath the glass.

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Word Count: 1041
Flash warning