Chapter 53

Leslie's face was downright ugly. She really thought today would be the day Leslie embarrassed herself, but turns out... not quite. Mr. Langdon was totally hyped - her painting? Amazing. It hit the theme right on the nose. Good art doesn't need words; it speaks for itself. And Leslie's piece? Loud and clear. The whole vibe was dark, unsettling even. Black dominated the canvas. A woman, looking totally broken, crouched beside a man lying on the ground. Her face twisted with madness, like she'd lost it. The only splash of color? A bright red heart in her hand. That heart screamed regret. Deep, soul-crushing regret. Leslie, completely in her zone, looked like she was possessed - or maybe just on fire. Her brush danced over the paper without pause. All the emotions she bottled up since her rebirth surged out. Everyone around just froze, like they were under some spell. At last, she finished the final stroke. She looked like a whole different person - cold, composed, like a queen returning