A Burning Regret

The end of a holiday

  Daniel sat against the back of an armchair in the poor living room of his apartment, with a bottle of Vodka in his right, and a cigarette in his left hand. He would tilt his head back and to the side a bit, strands of messy hair falling across a side of his face. There was nothing but silence surrounding him - All four walls around him spoke of nothing but silent mourning of loneliness at it's finest. There were distant noises of fireworks, from outside, which would often light up parts of the room Daniel was in, through the wide windows. But, nothing more than that. Besides the few older ladies in his building, Daniel was the only person who stayed inside for this day - The new years day. Daniel had no reason to go outside, he had no one to go with, no one to smile or laugh with. And to those thoughts he would sigh, heavily, just before he took a larger swig from the half empty bottle of alcohol in his hand. By now, his throat was used to the burning feeling of Vodka, or any other alcohol, so it wouldn't affect him anymore. Besides the occasional fireworks, the only other source of light in the living room was a dark brown candle atop the coffee table in the middle of the room. Beside it, were two empty bottles and a half empty pack of cigarettes. Swallowing the alcohol in his mouth, Daniel dragged a long smoke from the cigarette he held in between his middle and index, scrawny, inked fingers. And, some seconds later, staring up towards the dark, dimly lit ceiling, exhaled the smoke into the air and everything around him.

​Clicking his jaw in a rather odd way, Daniel would part his dark, bitten up lips as he exhaled a loud sigh just before they pulled into a silly but wide and toothy smile. He put the bottle in his hand beside him onto the cold floor, staring at it for a few moments before he looked to a painting which sat against a wooden easel. The easel proved to be old, but the half painted canvas on it fresh. Unlike most Daniel's paintings, this one seemed to have warm and bright tones, spread all over the canvas with passionate love. He stood, quickly but with a stumble and quiet groan before he shook his head with shut eyes, getting used to standing. Daniel looked back up towards the painting, which was a portrait, hair creating a shade at each side of his face as it fell over it. He would hum an eerie tune, walking to the easel and canvas on it, staring under the mass of hair over his face at it. An odd, almost psychopathic look hid within Daniel's deep, ocean blue eyes. And it hid well, even if his brows were furrowed and he had a mixture of a joyful smile and anger on his face. ''Oh, love..'' He finally uttered, dragging his fingertips over the paint with a soft, slow blink. Somewhat suddenly, then, Daniel pressed the burning cigarette to a part of the canvas, pressing it with force so it would burn through. He twisted it, occasionally, until it made a hole in the very middle of the canvas, where the heart of whoever the portrait was of was.

​ ''..I wish you could feel this burning pain, as I once did.. When you broke me, despite my promises.'' Daniel sounded as if he was choking the words out, as if somebody held a tight noose around his neck. He swallowed, letting the cigarette drop to the floor, the paint putting it out. He looked around the dark room, as he thought for a few moments. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he had the awful feeling, the choking feeling, in his throat - Making his voice even sound childlike. Sniffing, and parting his lips as he did so, Daniel looked to the canvas with narrowed eyes, as if staring deeply into one's soul. He stepped back, almost stumbling over his feet as he searched his pockets for a lighter, and looked down to the bottle of alcohol on the floor. A sickening grin made it's way onto Daniel's pale face, as he picked the bottle up into his hands. Perhaps just sick thoughts played with him, and his features, but he was no where near close to stopping himself. He would step forward to pour a bit of what was within the bottle over the canvas, watching it slide down the colors etched onto it. Silence filled the air once again, while Daniel stared down at the lighter in his hand. He dropped the bottle in his other hand to the floor, not much caring if it broke or spilled. He was hesitating, now, swallowing once again before he brought up the metal lighter closer to the edge of the canvas. He looked up, staring with a blank but soft expression on his face. The lighter, the moment it's fire was close enough to the painting, the canvas lit up with fire. In only instants, it was standing there, burning up and falling to the cold, white tiled floor underneath it. Daniel would watch, his hands fallen by his sides loosely, head tilted to the side a slight bit. He watched in disbelief, almost, staring at what he's done. If paintings could speak, he would well hear the agonizing screaming of the person trapped in the portrait. The room felt warmer, but only for the time the canvas burned. Only for the time the canvas was erased from existence, giving light to Daniel's face while a single tear rolled down a scarred cheek of his - He realized what he had done now, but could not be sure whether or not he felt regret for it or not.