My eyes were still closed while I felt the ground beneath me shake. My eyes were still closed when I felt that everything had stopped. I didn't dare open my eyes although I knew I had no choice but to open them.
Opening them, ever so slightly, I realised that I was crouched behind a sofa. It was pale pink and had frills along the edges. The boy from the painting was right next to me, dressed in red. He was also crouched, but he was peaking around the corner. I imitated his movements and allowed myself to be caught up in the moment. I heard a female voice and a male voice. She was pleading, and sobs were present. He was intimidating, yet charming. His voice was smooth, arrogant. It sounded as if he was not a man to be crossed. If I could gather all this from his voice alone, I needed to see how he looked. Witness the scene.
'Who are they?' I whispered to the boy. I tapped him lightly, only to make myself known. He did not move, or make any movement to acknowledge my presence. Losing my balance, I fell back on a stool that held a vase. It came crashing down, but no one seemed to notice. Was I invisible? Taking a chance, I stood up. Again, there was no acknowledgement of my presence.
That thought was on my mind for only a second. My eyes were fixated at the scene in front of me. The woman was truly beautiful. She looked young, and few wisps of dark curls had escaped her bun. Was it a bun? Intricate bun. Her neck was high and smooth. But the sleeves were torn, as if someone had ripped it. Even her bodice was pulled down. Any lower, then I was sure that her breast would pop out. This meant that her chemise and corset must have been ripped. But she was beautiful. I then noticed her holding a glass. It finally dawned upon me. She was trying to defend herself. My attention turned to the man.
I maybe a teenager, but I don't fall for every good-looking guy I come across. This man was not good-looking. He was handsome. Tall, smart, waistcoat, red cravat, he must have paid attention to the way he looked. Or was he simply dressed to impress the public? Maybe, to differentiate his class status from others? I did not know, and did not care. Right now, my fear was for the woman.
'Maria, why can you not just give in? I have waited too long. Just give yourself up to me,' he smoothly stated. He ruffled his brown hair
'No. No, don't come near me,' the lady shouted as the man took a step towards her.
He smoothed his gloves against his jacket. Flicking his hazel eyes up, he gave her a knowing smile. 'You will be mine. Now come along. I know John is on an errand, and the maids are not around. Your bedroom should be the perfect place to begin,' he took another step towards her.
'I said to stay away. I will not come with you!' She placed the glass roughly on the mantel piece and tried to pull up her bodice. It was inching its way down.
I looked down at the boy and realised that he was shaking. Anger was written across his face. He was cursing too. Diverting my gaze back at the woman, she had given up pulling her dress up. She had decided to keep in place with her arm. I also noticed the large rip along the side of dress.
'Please. Please leave me,' she began.
'No! I just told you, I've waited too long. I need your body. I need to feel it! You have nothing to lose. Why fight me? No one will know that you are sleeping with me. Even if they did, you will be the envy of the ton. I am a Duke,' he seethed. Frustration had taken over his handsome features.
'You could have anyone, why me?!' She yelled and swiped the strands of hair from her eyes.
'No no no, no!!' I shouted. It looked as if everything was happening in slow motion. Her arm moved to her hair, her other hand still clasped the slit on her dress, her bodice fell forward. Her upper body was bare for him to see. Before I could get to her, before she could let out a scream, he had her pinned to the ground.
I tried to push him, pull him off, but nothing. I was a mere spectator. I tried to remove my eyes, but they refused to move.
'Why have I chosen you?' He hissed. One hand held her hands above her head and the other moved up her thigh and disappeared into her dress. She let a muffle that shot through my heart, as he attacked her mouth with his. The bloody bastard was enjoying this. His mouth reached her breast, and he began biting.
'No,' was all the woman could croak out.
His cheeks became hollow, as he suckled her breast. 'This is why! This is why I chose you,' he whispered in her ear.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise. All three of us turned our head towards a cracked vase.
'Wait!' I heard the man shout as the woman whizzed past me. The man was just as fast. That was when I noticed the little boy following. By the time I reached the landing, I watched the boy looking through the keyhole. I didn't need to look through the keyhole in order to know who was in the room. The boy had tears sliding down his cheeks.
All patience left me as I heard her scream. I needed to see what was happening.
The hardest scene I've ever written, took along time to convince myself to actually to type this chapter. The next chapter, well read on, I'll have it up asap.
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The Boy in the PaintingMystery / Thriller
'Death is our best friend from childhood. It is just lost in this cruel world. When it finds its friend, what happens, only it decides. Has Death found its best friend? We will find out tonight,' Father Jones calmly stated. I like drawing, so yes, t...