She felt compelled to pick up the pencil. When she did, it started... The memories of the pencil stabbing multiple times haunted her again. She began to shiver. The shivering would become so intense she would be covered in cold sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, she dropped the pencil. And she let out a brutal scream!

_{Own's photo}

It was not just the stabbing of the pencil. It was the face. The face of the who raped her. The innocent handsome face of his online male friend that she met for the first time. They agreed to meet up.

He was fond of her art and her talent. Especially her pencil sketches. They chatted for few months over Messenger and he insisted he could be his model for her pencil sketch.

She was reluctant in the beginning regarding the meet up. She knew and she picked up from the chat that he could be a psychopath. But deep inside her, she dreamt of rescuing him. She thought she could save him, or at least made him agree to see a counsellor. Subtlely and gradually, she had allowed her feelings and emotions to fall for him.

It was a mistake. But it was a bigger mistake for continuing chatting with him. Hoping and wishing he could come out from the dark alley, she had started dreaming that this would become the man of her dream.

“Did you hear that Mike called the company president an asshole?" he said.

_{Own's photo}

He shared with her once about his ridiculous colleague, Mike, who always caused turbulence in the office.

"Well, as a matter of fact, our president is really an asshole. But that doesn't mean you should outrightly call the person asshole. After all, we should honor and respect people, for crying out loud!" he continued to share his opinion with her. They could talk for hours about anything. Anything under the sun.

That was when she fell into the trap. All of a sudden, hope called out to her. Hope whispered to her everyday that this male friend whom she thought was a psychopath could turn a new leaf. She put on hope because she knew this man could practice honor and respect. There was hope.

Therefore, she ignored her best friend's advice. Emily told her many times to stop seeking partner via online as there could be a lure. But she dumped Emily's advice.

They continued to chat every night over the Messenger. His admiration for her art sparked off a new sense of confidence in her. No one ever idolised her. But him. He even vowed he could come to visit her and to venerate her pieces of arts. That was when she had concluded in her heart at the expense of her safety that he was a good innocent man, with a dark side which could be lighten up again. She shut herself off from her best friend too as he told her that Emily must had gotton jealous of her.

".....maintenance is required, clearly we have grown deeper in our friendship. It could be more, who knows? And I really think we should meet up. Not just chatting online," he convinced her on this many times.

She was not sure. She eagerly wanted to, but she was also too nervous and scared. Fearful of the unknown. She had always been as such timid girl. The only thing she was bold to do was to express her thoughts and emotions in the form of sketches. Pencils were her best friends.

_{Own's photo}

In the end, she gave him her address. When he arrived at the door step, he caught her by surprise. He was not as good looking as he was in Facebook photos. Such a big lie via camera filter. She let him sat as his model - naked - as what was being discussed.

As she sketched him, she could not help but to feel being betrayed. It was that same hurt again. He should not post so many photos of his handsome faces, the edited one. He should be honest to me. Another lie. Yet, again, another lie.

She asked him to continue posing without moving so she could get the right angle for a nice ending touch. Walking slowly to him to admire his body stature, she moved toward his back to get a close-up look of his every parts.

Then with full of rage and sense of being cheated, she plunged the pencil into his back, the spine, and left the pencil there. Taking out another two more pencils from her artist's apron, she stabbed him non-stop on his head.

_{Own's photo}

"How dare you lie?! You psycho! Psycho! You! Same! As! Him!"

Back to where she was in the asylum, in the white padded cell, Emily stared at her from the one-way mirror. The officers were stomping into the cell to tie her up again, afraid that she would hurt herself with the pencil.

Earlier on, Emily suggested to give a pencil and a paper to her friend, thinking it might help to stir up her memory of the past of who she was. A great artist. A weird and quiet one. Apparently, the incident had left a huge impact on her that she lost her mind and memory. All she could remember and always shout out loud was "Pencil! Psycho!"

Poor girl, she was already very wounded and mentally unsound due to being raped by his first boyfriend and his friends. Gang rape, she claimed. She met him online too.

Then she was wounded another time. This time, she was classified under pencil homicide.

Emily shrugged her head and walked away from the cell. After few steps, she stopped. As she turned back and had one last look at her friend, she thought, "If you'd ever listen to my advice."

_{Image Source from Unsplash.com}

This is my weekend freewrite initiated by @mariannewest using 3-part prompt. Thank you for reading and hope you like it.

If you do not know what freewrite is, it is a plan by @mariannewest and @improv to just free flow write out our thoughts, where there is no fear of whether what we write is good or not. Just relax and have fun and write in that 5-minutes-time. Here is the introductory post. Come on, you can start joining and have fun too! ☺ And now we have @freewritehouse, yay! Have a visit and you will not regret it!

Join us @steemitbloggers <sub>Animation By @zord189




art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics</sub>