I'll catch y*u

He positioned Dona to face the wall and not it.

He was at her right and it was on her left. Its head had been twisted to face her and she could feel its hot breath upon the nape of her neck. She didn't fidget, too scared to move she froze. She even tried to stop the upheaval of her chest as she breathed in fear that movement would cause it to action.

She flinched and gasped as a sound appeared to her right. Forcing her neck not to turn to the creature.

"Do you see it?"

She didn't know whether she should announce the appearance of the phantom or to just let it be. She was experiencing affliction on both sides. She hadn't replied. Then Tony pointed to the makeshift carcass on the floor.

"It's a mould", he commented. "Of my grandmother, Tiffany."

Tiffany, that name piqued Dona's interest. It was the name of the last known relative to the little boy. The little boy that Madam Alice sought out. His name...

He smiled. Carrying on his monologue while Dona contemplated her existential crisis."I call her Charlie. That name suits her more, as it has with it a crazed background".

He touched her hand. "You may speak now."

"Tony Anderson."She blurted his name, causing him to step into her comfort zone. Now towering over her she looked up at him. "From the Anderson case."

A devilish smile rose his cheeks. "So you do know who I am?"

She hesitated, swallowing dry air. "Are you the Anguished Man?"

He didn't immediately respond, he stared at her. As if analyzing her he froze. He twitched as if a screw had been twisted the wrong way. His grin turned heinous. malicious. "Let's play a game."

She didn't flinch. Until. A breeze that chilled her to the core, came from her left. It stood closer now, dominating her space. She tilted her head and tears started to peck her cheeks. While clenching her eyes she said," Please, stop."

Tony hadn't understood her sudden affliction and was entertained by her sudden performance.

"Charlie—Charlie."He touched the wall. "My grandmother used to play it with me."

His nails scratched the surface and the tips started to bleed. "People have been playing it wrong for a while now."He turned to her. "Do you know how to play?"

 She slowly lifted her head. With dry lips, she said," The game that you play with a pencil? You balance the pencil on a page with the words yes or no. Then you ask Charlie a question?"

He nodded. His flamboyant side appeared but he quickly turned back to his steely self."You have to play it on a larger surface."

 She didn't understand. "You have to use a body as the pencil and the floor as the paper."

 The creature next to her started to step away. There still was a heaviness on her chest that suffocated her. She looked from Tony to the empty space. To quickly change the topic she asked."Where's the painting that hung from the wall?"

The question annoyed him. He tightened the noose around her hands the machine clenched to her lips while doing it he spoke." It was done by an amateur."

He was as close to her as the creature was. " By an amateur." He was nearly choking her. Her hands were trembling vigorously, shaking the bonds. He let go and watched her catch her breath."I'm sorry."He said with his back turned."It brought with it more than memories."He brushed off his clothing and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands."Anyhow."He took the wire and dragged her further down the hall. "I need your help with something."

The clanging on the wheels reverberated down the hallway."Your people call me an interpreter."He scoffed."I take already made work and turn it into something new."

 Dona was watching all the paintings pass her. She started to feel a sense of nostalgia while passing many artworks. Some with displayed as they would in a museum. And then it hit her. The vast complex of stone and roofing made her realize that she stood in one of the most famous museums in the world. Then she came upon a scene, an installation artwork that was deemed off-limits to the general public. He calmy unclasped the boundary and pulled her into the scene.

There was a swing hanging from the roof accompanied by two male statues that laid on the makeshift grass. It was a garden scene. The more she looked at it the more details appeared to her. The males were wearing eighteenth-century outfits. The one was behind the swing and the other in front of it, kneeling and or grasping the air. Tony took in her countenance and with a gleam of interest spoke. " Ever hear of the Rococo artist, Jean-Honoré Fragonard?". She looked at her outfit and remembered the lesson she had once in the studio. In regards to Rococo art, her outfit represented that of the wealthy bourgeoisie in Paris. She looked like a courtesan and remembered the story behind it, one of adultery.

He knelt to meet her height, positioning himself next to her ear."See those men?"

She squinted and could no longer breath. Dona was stunned at the reveal.

"They're not statues."