I put my hand to my mouth to stop myself from blowing chunks everywhere as I watch Vincent drop the woman on a silver table , the stench of blood in the air ,making the metallic scent of the metal plated walls and doors stronger .
"You're a mad man ." I choke and turn around , refusing to look at the sight behind me .
"From your view , I am . "He pauses and the sound of metal clanking against each other makes me cringe .
"From where I'm standing , I'm just a man trying to survive in this wretched world. "
"Paint exists !" I protest and turn to yell at him but freeze when I see him sliding his knife deep into the flesh of the woman , the blade slicing from the top of her forearm to the bottom of her wrist. Blood sprays out like a fountain before the pressure decreases and the blood slowly pools out of her .
I turn back around and try to forget the image of the blood .
This isn't real.
"It doesn't give the artwork the raw crimson color I'm looking for . "He laughs as the sound of more blood spraying makes me dig my fingers into my ears to block out the noise.
Jesus fucking christ what have I gotten myself into?
Abuse is one thing , murder is another , but the one that takes the cake is using human blood for painting .
Vincent is a psycho !
If I'm not careful he might decide to make me into one of his paintings too...
How can I get out of this?
Maybe , if I pretend to fear him enough to keep my mouth shut , he'll trust me enough to leave me alone . That's when I can set up the right ambush for the police to come here and find this ...bloody chamber.
I feel a forceful tug on my arm, pulling my finger out my ear and forcing me to turn around . I stare up at a grinning Vincent who holds a knife in his hand .
"I've been calling you ,Love. "He chuckles and tosses the knife across the room . I flinch as the knife lands on the floor , the loud metal scraping against the stone floor echoing through the room.
"What do you need?" I swallow and stare dead into his eyes , trying my hardest to not look at the bleeding out corpse of a woman on the table.
"I want to show you my studio ."his smile changes from sinister to sweet in a matter of seconds as he slowly holds my hand and pulls me to follow him.
How is this the same person who just killed someone ?
It's almost as if he has more than one personality .
I cringe as the image of the hand holding mine stabbing someone refuses to leave my brain.
The same hand that took someone's life is holding my hand so gently and caring .
It's disgusting.
Vincent opens one of the metal doors and pulls me up a wooden staircase covered in a thick layer of dust . It's quite narrow so Vincent is forced to let go of my hand , allowing me to get enough distance from him as he walks ahead.
"I haven't been here in a while. About five months?" He laughs and runs his hand along the textured wall painted terribly.
I frown as I stare at the horrible state of the building, from what I've seen, it could be used as a homeless shelter.
Vincent has so much money , yet his studio looks like a poor man's house .
"I thought you only recently finished your paintings ?" I ask , trying to keep him happy with my answers.
Vincent waits to answer as we make it to the top of the stairs and enter a large and spacious room with incomplete paintings lying everywhere . Thick books are stacked in corners as pages from magazines lie on the ground , discarded after use.
This must be where he comes up with ideas based on all the resources he most likely uses as references.
"This is only one of my studios,Love."he starts and walks towards the long wooden table in the middle of the room covered in loose sheets of paper with drawings on them.
"I use this one for drafts . This is where the originals and accidents are done and kept. "He chuckles to himself as he begins picking up random sheets of paper and looking at the sketches on them.
I decide to use this time to get a better understanding of Vincent . Once I know how he thinks , I'll be able to get him to trust me enough to leave me alone.
I slowly stray further into the studio, gazing at the paintings leaning against the walls . The strange thing being that they are all in color that isn't red . Greens and blues are slapped into landscape paintings and yellows are brightly used to lighten the paintings aesthetic .
I thought he only uses red...
"Vincent? "I call carefully ,making sure not to be too strong and confident with my words.
"Yes?"
"Why are all these paintings not in red?" I ask and admire the beautiful details in the grass and leaves. It's almost as if he's painted each blade of grass with all his attention and focus , same as the leaves on the tress.
"Oh!" He says in excitement and hurries to my side and picks up one of the paintings. In his hands he holds a beautiful lake with morning mist hanging above the green water.
"These are my very first paintings after leaving home. I haven't released them because they're so different to my current ones and go against the technique I'm known for. "He explains with a smile on his face.
So he wasn't always like this ...
"Do you still paint with ...normal paints?" I eye his reaction but frown in disappointment as it isn't what I was expecting.
"Absolutely not!"he grimaces and drops the canvas onto the floor. "I've found my medium and I'm happy with it "he smiles and nods his head in contentment as he takes his mask off .
Oh . Right .
I reach to take my mask off as well but realize that I'm not wearing it.
I must've thrown it aside while throwing up without knowing.
"Does Amariah know about your ....technique?" I ask slowly and look around the room , observing each painting .
He's quite good.
"No."he shrugs and grabs my hand ,pulling me into his chest and resting a finger under my chin to make me look up at him.
I feel my heart rate spike at the sudden action , fearing he might hurt me again .
Stay calm Lorain . He would've hurt you already if he was going to .
"You fascinate me, my Love. "He smiles down at me , his eyes searching my face as his thumb caresses my chin .
"So you've said . "I whisper . My eyes widen as his arm holds my waist tighter , making me even more scared than before.
"I just murdered someone-"he laughs and let's go of me , stepping away with his hands behind his back. "And here you are , blushing under my touch. "He chuckles mischievously.
I frown and touch my cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off them. I was blushing ?
"I'm not blushing ! I'd rather die than be held by you." I quickly regret my words , realizing that killing is his hobby.
"Then why do get all jittery when I touch you ?" He looks down at me with a short smirk on his face as he falls back into the old chair by the table .
I glare at him and fold my arms over my chest ."I'm just scared you'll murder me too . I don't feel anything towards you other than fear "
"Oh ? But I'd never kill you . " he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the chair . "That would leave me bored . "
Of course. Everything he does is for his entertainment .
Murdering people must sure make his day far more exciting than going to a circus with his wife , or ...swimming at the beach. Murder has more enticement to it .
"Well now that you know I'd never kill you. "He starts and lifts his head to look at me again . "Would you happen to feel any sort of attraction towards me ?"
What ?
I stare at his relaxed figure , noticing some tension in his hands that grip the arm rest of the chair .
Does he actually care what my answer is ?
"I guess you'll have to find out for yourself. "
An
I cannot wait to come back to this story and rewrite it better. Unfortunately I currently suck at writing