SHAN BAE - THE ROOM

Shan Bae is a 28 year old poet and an abstract digital artist from Kansas City, MO. She is currently attending FSU to receive a B.S. in Media Communications, working towards her diploma for Life Coaching, and is a certified Reiki Practitioner. She enjoys topics such as psychology, spirituality, and horror which can be visually experienced throughout her favorite mediums of art. She spends her extra time curating her own website shanbae.com; where she posts her art on a frequent basis. 

THE ROOM

​Jon traced the white trim on the ceiling with his eyes and stopped at the parts of the green wallpaper that had peeled away from the wall. The butterflies in is stomach were stirred violently when he finally made eye contact with his guest. The internal shock came from how deep and dark her eyes were and almost as if they mirrored her black dress. Her crescent nude lips were illuminated by the moonlight peering through the patio door.
 
“Two hours, right?” said Jon.
“Yes, we have two hours,” said Lady. “I hope you don’t use them all to stare at the hideous brown wallpaper.”
“Oh, yeah right,” said Jon, nervously.
 
As her gaze deepened, the black iris expanded; filling the entire white space. Jon eye’s locked onto her eyes as he sat back in his chair and uncrossed his legs. He was lost in there for some time trying to put his finger on what it was about her that made her so different.
 
“You’re not like those other women that come to visit me,” said Jon.
“I don’t know what the other women are like, but I do know that they are not in this for the same reasons that I am,” said Lady.
“Oh,” said Jon. “Why are you into this kind of work?”
“I am here for you,” said Lady.
“For me?” said Jon with a puzzled face. “How can you be here for me?”
“You called, didn’t you?” asked Lady.
“Yes,” said Jon.
“Isn’t my purpose meant to serve you in the way you desire?” asked Lady.
“I mean, now that you say it like that…yes,” said Jon nervously.
 
Jon’s butterflies took flight once again and what little pink he had in his face drained from his body. His addiction to prostitutes wasn’t something he believed to be wrong but her words reminded him of his wife’s undying love for him. He clenched at his heart beating vigorously behind his ribcage and grimaced every with every stab in his chest.
 
“Are you okay?” said Lady.
Jon pulled at his tie and said, “Yes, I think so. I am just nervous because you are beautiful, and I have a wife.”
“I know,” said Lady.
 
Jon’s eyes exploded in width along with his heart. Moving his hand from his chest to his heart he veered his attention in her direction. With the pain in his chest now radiating down his arm he couldn’t take knowing her true intentions here. He wanted to go home, pop his heart medication, and collapse in the bed next to his wife. His legs were too weak to bare the load of his body and rise to his feet.
 
“I lied to you earlier, Jon,” said Lady. “I am here for you, specifically.”
“Why?” said Jon. “If it’s money you want, I will pay you double or whatever you’re asking for.”
“No, I don’t want your money or material belongings,” said Lady. “No, those things don’t interest me as much as what’s still beating in your chest.”
“What are you saying?” said Jon. “Are you going to cut out my heart? You can’t cut out my heart!”
“There is the debt you must pay for the heartache you have caused for your wife.”
 
Lady rose from her chair, walked over to Jon, and kneeled at his feet. All the while, his vision became blurry and his hearing muffled. He could see his heart beating through his shirt and the pools of sweat that began growing on his shirt.
 
As his head dropped, his vision turned to blackness, and his heart struggled to pump for the last time she said, “Your wife sent me. I am here for your heart.”
 
***