Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

Chapter 2

It was dawn before Suzanne could stop trembling. The chill she felt was bone-deep. Kevin was dead. She would never see him again, hear his voice, feel him hold her close. She kept thingking, It's my fault. I should never have gone into that courtroom. Oh, Kevin, forgive me....please forgive me.... I dont think I can go on without you. You were my life, my reason to live, and now I have none.

She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball.

She wanted to disappear.

She wanted to die.

She lay there, desolate, thinking about the past, how Kevin had transformed her life...

Suzanne West had grown up in Sands Point, New York, an area of quiet affluence. Her father was a surgeon and her mother an artist, Suzanne had begun to draw when she was three. She attended St Paul's boarding school, and when she was a freshman in college, had a brief relationship with her charismatic mathematics teacher. He told her he wanted to marry her because she was the only woman in the world for him. When Suzanne learned that he had a wife and three children, she decided that either his maths or his memory were defective, and transferred to Wellesley College.

She was obsessed with art, and spent every spare moment painting. By the time Suzanne was graduated, she had begun selling her paintings and was acquiring a reputation as an artist of promise.

That autumn, a prominent Fifth Avenue gallery gave Suzanne her own art show, and it was a huge success. The owner of the gallery, Jack Deacon, was a wealthy, erudite African-American who had helped nurture Suzanne's career.

Opening night, the salon was crowded. Deacon hurried up to Suzanne, a big smile on his face.

'Congratulations! We've already sold most of the paintings! I'm going to set up another exhibition in a few months, as soon as you're ready,'

Suzanne was thrilled. 'That's wonderful, Jack.'

'You deserve it.' He patted her on the shoulder and bustled off.

Suzanne was signing an autograph when a man came up behind her and said, 'I like your curves.'

Suzanne stiffened. Furious, she spun around and opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, when he went on: 'They have the delicacy of a Rossetti or a Manet.' He was studying one of her paintings as he spoke.

Suzanne caught herself just in time. 'Oh.'

She took a closer look at the man. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was about six feet tall, with an athletic build, blond hair, and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in a soft tan suit, a white shirt, and a brown tie.

'I - thank you.'

'When did you begin painting?'

'When I was a child. My mother was a painter.'

He smiled. 'My mother was a cook, but I can't cook. I know your name. I'm Kevin Stevens.'

At that moment, Jack Deacon approached with three packages.

 'Here are your paintings, Mr Stevens. Enjoy them.' He handed them to Kevin Stevens, and walked away.

Suzanne looked at him in surprise. 'You bought three of my paintings?'

'I have two more in my apartment.'