French kiss the devil

She woke, wearing an eighteenth-century gown. A sack back gown that should be in a museum, now clothed her. The word museum brought another memory. It reminded Dona, that the supposed "Anguished man", likes to showcase his works in museums and galleries.

"Lovely isn't it."

She could only hear his voice, as she was blindfolded and tied. When he took it off in a brisk sway, her surroundings started to form into shape. She was standing, as a marionette would on a moving metal stand with wheels. One rod where her hands were tied was placed in the middle of the stand to keep her from falling. She stood propped up, by the unusual cloth. Noticing that she too was adorned with heels and jewellery. She tried to speak but felt metallic liquid on her tongue.

"Oh yes, that piece ruins the whole artwork."

He was standing near her side, circling her like an animal to its prey. He carried a rope in his hand which was attached to the stand. 

"You can speak, but only when I want you to."

His demeanour had changed from a preppy flamboyant to a stern roundish man. He lined his eyebrows as he spoke and he made no snickering remark as he would of. He wore a suit, tailored and fitting his frame to the swoon of woman. He turned his back to her and started walking down the hallway.

The house was ancient, she could tell. It was unfamiliar to her and she felt as though she had been moved from the city to a small town down south. The dust from the walls accentuated the creaks in the floor. A strong aroma of hay was in the air and she twitched her nose as her sinuses woke. The walls paint was drying and teething from the source, the ceiling was high but not high enough to hide the artworks on them. Paintings in frames hung on opposite ends of the hallway. As if walking down a timescape, she could sense the mawkishness it held to him.

She was forced to pass one painting that held a portrait of a redhead with a poker-face. Then she remembered "Crystal". Did she know? Is she apart of this or a victim of it? Where was she? Is she here? Dona wanted to sob, and yet the awkward metal between her teeth kept her still. She hadn't realized that the metal had a cable attached to it. As she strolled, it followed. She could churn her neck to see the cable travel down the hall. She wondered how big the house was and where the cable would go. He noticed her curiosity and spoke without looking at her.

"I'll show you where it leads, in due time."He continued," Right now I've got questions for both your journalist and artistic side."

He pulled the rope tighter, forcing her to hop forward.

"Tell me, Dona."His voice was authoritative, blunt.

"Have you seen it?"

She didn't know how to reply. She could understand what he was implying by the sudden tension in the air. The tension wasn't of awkwardness, it was as if something was raging in the darkness. The lighting was quite Rembrandt in the hallway. She forgot to answer him and she saw where he was leading her. To an empty space, lacking a painting. She knew a painting was there, as the remains of its frame still mocked the wall. Another morose reminder was the body below it and the creature in front of it. It was standing there, with its head bowed over the artwork.

As she got closer she realized that it was a cast of a body, seemingly crucified to the bottom of the wall. As he forced her closer, she wondered if he saw it. Had he noticed her heart rate rising, her body tensing and her hands trembling. She tried to scream but only muzzled chokes could be heard. Then he stopped her. Right in front of it. She was so close, if she nudged her head-forward she was able to touch it. 

"Please." She tried to say. 

Tears were spilling from her eyes and she held her breath. A choking sensation thickened as she looked at it. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe and when she opened it, it was staring right at her.