Chapter 2- The Artist
Sweaty Hands Will Fail To Lock The Door
"They know," he whispered, "they know!" Stricken with grief, panic and paranoia, Gerard ran into the room he and Annabel once shared, but now stood as Annabel's tomb.
He stared into her beautiful eyes, but they didn't hold the same spark as the night they had met. Now they were just empty pits that would haunt him. He gently closed her eyes, as if to tell himself she would never see him again.
"She's not gone," he sobbed to himself. He watched as her lips moved, whispering inaudably to him. She wasn't dead. He gently stroked her icy cheek and brushed back her hair.
I can't look away, he thought, when I do she'll be gone. Realizing he had failed to lock the door, Gerard's panic increased. They'll be here soon! He looked around. "No! Running won't work. I haven't the time."
His mind raced with scenerios and ways of escape, but he could not leave his Annabel.
He ran from the room once more and into his art studio. He threw paint brushes and canvases around the room. They'll be here soon. What do I do? As he destoryed the rest of his precious art materials, he fell to his knees. Why should I even do anything?
Finally his mind decided on a solution to his predicament. His must lay her to rest. Perminatly.
With shaking hands his hid her body and locked the door. No one will find her.
He ran through the halls once more, again glancing in the mirror. Why was the face he saw so familiar? Whoever this madman glaring at him was, he had seen the face before.
He continued out of the final resting place of his beloved Annabel and locked the door.
"They'll be here soon," he whispered and ran off into the darkness of the night.
YOU ARE READING
The Insanity of The Artist (Alesana/MCR)
FanfictionI am here to tell you a story. A story that will torture your thoughts by day and poison your dreams by night. And though I will do my best there are no words that can be written, nor brush strokes laid on canvas that can describe the stark and utt...
