Do y*u know who I am

No matter the room, the smell of rotting flesh followed him like a shadow. He had to steady himself on the walls, trying to escape the voices. Fervent wailing and inaudible speech vibrated all around him. He staggered his way to an unassuming door at the far end of the house.

He turned his back to it as soon as he fell, rolling down the door with his stomach clenched. He held his head in his hands, shaken and confused he looked up. Looking down the hallway, the paintings and all their tumult ceased. He was now able to breathe, with a full chest with no weight. He stood, holding onto the door. Peering at the knob as if it were magic; he opened it without hesitation.

With a clang, his senses filled with an overbearing stench that knocked him off his feet, causing him to stumble down the mysterious chamber. He felt a burning sensation on his upper back that made him scream. His face positioned as to where he'd be able to see the entrance. There it stood. A mass of a man, Lucifer himself with the skin stripped for sin. It's mouth crinkled ever so slightly as if mocking him; it dislodged and broke its neck.

Paralysed in fear, Harry tried to move but only shook his way at an attempt. The hallowing figure's mouth kept enlarging. Harry wanted to slump into the shadows to avoid its presence but found another unnerving existence coming from behind him. His eyes widened as hot breath hovered over his neck. He could not shift his body to view it, but he knew something alien licked his cheek. A rough tongue like a cat trailed its way down to his jaw. He felt as though his voice suppressed as he could not even wail a woe.

Closing his eyes was the only sense of control he had. He held onto the darkness of his lids while biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. Opening his eyes to see no inkling of light whatsoever, he tried to move. This time his legs didn't buckle under him, and he was able to reach a wall. He felt around like a blind man in a new space and found a light switch. His eyes adjusted to the bright lights and his sinuses kicked into gear as he smelt nauseating odour.

The room lit up like a Christmas tree, all of Tony's dark secrets were laid bare before him. The bunker represented a studio, with extended rooms accompanied by arched doorways. Harry walked the painting lineup that was on both sides of the interior. They were acrylic portraits of female's smiling at the viewer. Nostalgia greeted him as he viewed each woman, there were no titles but a signature on the right corner of the frame. Harry crossed the threshold and observed the other portraits. None of which has any painters signature in the frame.

He walked the edge until he reached the far end of the wall, where a black veil covered no window. He uncovered it with a swallowed breath and lurched onto the floor and froze. A grand shrine spanned the wall, including many images of Dona. He gagged, releasing his lunch before the sanctum. Looking up from his mess, he saw a glint of metal in the other room. He got up clutching his stomach; walking into the frame of the arch. He limped onto a scene, wherein a cage built into the wall surrounded a lounging area with a sunken space in the middle that held an easel and chair. Behind it a massive trunk. With an ingenious design, Harry opened it and found it to be a campaign wardrobe. Inside the generous space, trinkets were ranging from paintbrushes to charcoal.

One cabinet held paintbrushes in jars filled with liquid that Harry paid no mind too. Harry's mind kept racing, thoughts of Dona filled his head, and he couldn't think straight. He examined almost everything, touching, placing. Holding a smaller jar in hand, Harry felt an ominous pull towards it. Each jar was labelled and filled with red liquid. Upon further inspection, Harry realized that those labels were names. One name, in particular, caught his eye, Kathy Smalls.

"Police are hunting down a serial killer who detectives believe is responsible for a series of missing person cases and one death in the 16th arrondissement of Paris."

"The first victim has been identified as Kathy Smalls, reported missing for..."

The rest of the report is a blur. Panic-stricken, Harry started throwing the objects out from the cabinet. Before throwing the large jar with paintbrushes in, he stopped. With a heaved breath, he opened the lid, to find severed fingers jammed onto the top of the paintbrushes. He immediately pushed it away and stood, stepping out of the sunken area he fell onto the couch behind him.

In front of him was a smaller trunk that caused his fall. Without needing to open it, Harry could already tell that the source of the heinous smell that choked him as he entered the house, stemmed from this trunk. Why hadn't he noticed it before? He was perplexed. Stunned and enamoured he stood; walking away from it with his back not turned. Treating it as if it were alive, he found his way to the arch. An irrational fear choked him; he thought that if he looked away; it would spring alive like a jack-in-the-box. He just stared at it; until his mind satiated. 

The weight on his chest returned. He needed to step outside and breath. The wind provided him with the solace that he couldn't find. He needed Dona. He stepped into Tony's room, finding no clutter. The room in comparison to the rest of the house was oddly simplistic; it contrasted everything. On top of the dresser, there was a pamphlet of an art exhibition that brought back a recollection of what Crystal's assistant told him.

"She'll be gone for a few days; she's visiting a nearby gallery."

He decided that he too will be visiting this unannounced retro museum, that was only opening a month from now. He shook his head, eyeing the pamphlet.

"Crystal's not at this museum." He flummoxed. Instead of visiting the assistant again and blaring at her for answers, he decided to find them himself.