He went to bed alone, always dreaming about those blank, lifeless… No, those eyes were still very much vibrant and full of life. He repeated this to himself over and over.
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Breakfast in hand, he unlocked the cellar door. He marched down the stairs, humming a cheery tune. He would get to continue his work, and he would finish today. He would paint it all from memory while she sat and enjoyed her breakfast. She’d been so good to him lately, she hadn’t moved an inch. He’d stared at her enough over the years they’d been together, and even long before then too. It was about time that she watched him work. He could paint her from memory, and it would be perfect, and beautiful. Just like her.
After long hours of hard work and toil he’d finally finished her portrait. Even her eyes. They sparkled with life as they stared locked on his. She smirked, that unmistakable half-smile of hers that he loved so. He almost wept over the very sigh of her, he’d perfected it. Finally, he looked up to see her, and caught those blank eyes. Why did she look at him this way?! Why couldn’t she be like she used to! He wanted her back! But no matter how much he yelled at her all she would do is stare. She didn’t care. He would show her to care. He slapped her straight across the face. Her head twisted sideways, and he immediately felt sorry. He held her tight and apologized over and over. Then he looked at her in the eyes again. They were still so indifferent. He had to make her care again! He started beating on her. All over her body she took punches and blows, but nothing would make that cold stare change.
He became frightened of her. His love, his princess, how could she frighten him so? She was not who he remembered her to be. He quickly took his only finished portrait of her upstairs as not to let it be corrupted by her. He hung the portrait on the wall of his bedroom and admired her. But he could not be happy sitting there knowing she was downstairs. That girl; her body so cold, her face so pale. Down below he knew she was there, veins run dry, vacant eyes. He had to get rid of her. That demon surrounded by eyeless portraits of herself. He could not keep that thing in his cellar.
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