Reveal for thespiansparkle
The Five Women Isaac Mendez Paints and the One He Doesn’t
I. When Isaac Mendez is eleven years old, he paints for the first time, with oils and canvas supplied by an overeager art teacher at his middle school. He closes his eyes and attacks the canvas, crimson staining the starched material like lifeblood drawn from too deep scratches.
He paints his best friend Olivia, because she’s there and stands still, because he loves her and she loves him. She has deep blue eyes and corn silk hair and no color on his palate does her justice.
He paints Olivia and she dies the next day, blood staining her starched white dress like crimson paint on canvas.
II. When Isaac Mendez is seventeen years old, he paints for the second time, with oils and canvas supplied by an art store down the street from his reform school. He closes his eyes as his body wracks with sobs, dry tears falling for a friend long dead.
He paints his sister Jackie, because she’s there and stands still, because he hates her and she hates him. She has deep black circles under her eyes and no hair on her head and there is no color in the world to paint death personified.
He paints Jackie and she dies a year later, cancer boiling in her veins.
Isaac weeps.
III. When Isaac Mendez is twenty one years old, he paints for the third time, with oils and canvas supplied by his dealer, dusted with coke and dripping with disdain. He stares straight ahead as sugar plum fairies kick around behind his eyelids because somehow he’s blind and totally awake at the same time.
He paints his dealer Simone, because she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and he’s just sick enough to believe in her. She has amber eyes and perfect black ringlets and he digs into cerulean and pitch and gold trying to find that right combination.
He paints Simone and she dies six years later, shot through the soul, with a bullet through the heart.
IV. When Isaac Mendez is twenty six years old, he paints for the fourth time, with oils and canvas supplied by that man in Las Vegas, tied with money and drugs. He wills his eyes back as the feeling of complete power washes over him.
He paints a cheerleader named Claire, because she haunts him and he needs to know what happens to her. She has brown, blue, green eyes and blonde hair and his hands bleed black as she becomes a future he cannot change.
He paints Claire and not three weeks later, Peter Petrelli saves her life. Maybe he can’t paint the future after all.
V. When Isaac Mendez is twenty seven years old, he paints for the last time, with oils and canvas supplied by... he can’t remember who. He closes his eyes and prays, unsure of his future but very sure that he is going to die.
He paints a mother named Niki, whose face is sharp and lined, broken and beautiful. She’s breathtaking and shattered, only wanting her husband and child to live, to be saved.
He paints Niki, only to find out she’s not Niki, and then he’s dying, crucified by his own personal Judas.
He finally gets to be a hero.
And the one woman he doesn’t...
VI. When Isaac Mendez is eleven, seventeen, twenty one, twenty six, twenty seven, he paints with heart and soul and ink and blood. He paints for the first and last, middle and none time, with his eyes tearing from his very skull.
He paints no one, nothing, just a black square.
Isaac Mendez can paint all but his muse. She is quiet, oh so quiet.
I. When Isaac Mendez is eleven years old, he paints for the first time, with oils and canvas supplied by an overeager art teacher at his middle school. He closes his eyes and attacks the canvas, crimson staining the starched material like lifeblood drawn from too deep scratches.
He paints his best friend Olivia, because she’s there and stands still, because he loves her and she loves him. She has deep blue eyes and corn silk hair and no color on his palate does her justice.
He paints Olivia and she dies the next day, blood staining her starched white dress like crimson paint on canvas.
II. When Isaac Mendez is seventeen years old, he paints for the second time, with oils and canvas supplied by an art store down the street from his reform school. He closes his eyes as his body wracks with sobs, dry tears falling for a friend long dead.
He paints his sister Jackie, because she’s there and stands still, because he hates her and she hates him. She has deep black circles under her eyes and no hair on her head and there is no color in the world to paint death personified.
He paints Jackie and she dies a year later, cancer boiling in her veins.
Isaac weeps.
III. When Isaac Mendez is twenty one years old, he paints for the third time, with oils and canvas supplied by his dealer, dusted with coke and dripping with disdain. He stares straight ahead as sugar plum fairies kick around behind his eyelids because somehow he’s blind and totally awake at the same time.
He paints his dealer Simone, because she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and he’s just sick enough to believe in her. She has amber eyes and perfect black ringlets and he digs into cerulean and pitch and gold trying to find that right combination.
He paints Simone and she dies six years later, shot through the soul, with a bullet through the heart.
IV. When Isaac Mendez is twenty six years old, he paints for the fourth time, with oils and canvas supplied by that man in Las Vegas, tied with money and drugs. He wills his eyes back as the feeling of complete power washes over him.
He paints a cheerleader named Claire, because she haunts him and he needs to know what happens to her. She has brown, blue, green eyes and blonde hair and his hands bleed black as she becomes a future he cannot change.
He paints Claire and not three weeks later, Peter Petrelli saves her life. Maybe he can’t paint the future after all.
V. When Isaac Mendez is twenty seven years old, he paints for the last time, with oils and canvas supplied by... he can’t remember who. He closes his eyes and prays, unsure of his future but very sure that he is going to die.
He paints a mother named Niki, whose face is sharp and lined, broken and beautiful. She’s breathtaking and shattered, only wanting her husband and child to live, to be saved.
He paints Niki, only to find out she’s not Niki, and then he’s dying, crucified by his own personal Judas.
He finally gets to be a hero.
And the one woman he doesn’t...
VI. When Isaac Mendez is eleven, seventeen, twenty one, twenty six, twenty seven, he paints with heart and soul and ink and blood. He paints for the first and last, middle and none time, with his eyes tearing from his very skull.
He paints no one, nothing, just a black square.
Isaac Mendez can paint all but his muse. She is quiet, oh so quiet.