9]

A

Yet I'm here again. Afraid to breathe a word because I might regret it. Why are they all staring at me. The dark silhouettes glides past me while grabbing my hands dragging me vigorously across the dusty floors. I wince in pain as the friction burns my skin. I stare up at the walking shadow hopelessly waiting for this night to finish... And it did.

My heavy panting echoed in my room. I awoke with beads of cold sweat tickling my sore back. "thank goodness", I whispered to myself as the hazy air brushed my pale face. The morning sun was painted on my walls as I walked towards my bathroom. I live in a room tucked behind an art museum. The museum is practically mines since it was passed on to me but one of my grandfathers close friends clearly thought otherwise. His name is Sidrick Lavender, a boring old man in his late 60s, nothing really important about him besides the fact that he let me live here so I guess I should thank him for that.

I had a cold bath for no apparent reason and put my robe on, I stepped out of my room and the scent of sweet paper and thick paint overthrew me. I stared at the huge paintings that towered me and I ran around like a child, down the lavish hallways as my damp flaxen hair flew behind me. I feel free, I slid through the Isles until I found it. I race to the one painting that meant something to me. I didn't know what exactly it meant but I swear whenever I glance at it, I just get lost in the abyss of the glowing night sky that sat in the lady's eyes. She was staring directly at me. I lift my hands slowly and caressed the painting... It was like I could feel her bare skin... "Amelise, what on earth are you doing?",he asked in his strong Scottish accent.I slowly look back in embarrassment and smile "er... I.. I saw a spider on the painting and I wanted to take it off" I stuttered now smiling manically . "well how considerate of you", Sidrick smiled arching his eyebrows in amusement. He out of all people knew I was lying. Ever since I was a kid I practically worshiped the painting. He once told me that the painter is unknown, a lady in a doll mask gave the painting to him with no context and drove off. Whether he was lying or not, the thought of it made my shiver in curiosity.