He ran down the stairs and went to his garage. Gasoline, matches… Now he was ready to pay that girl in his cellar another visit. He unlocked the cellar, and walked down the stairs. He soaked her and her portraits in gasoline, and was about to light the match but… Her eyes. Always her eyes. They kept staring at him. They were always staring at him, locked on him. Accusing him. Always! That’s how it had been from the very start! She was accusing him of… Of… No! He lit the match and threw it at her. She caught fire, everything burst into flames, and he ran up the stairs. She would not escape, she was not allowed to. He locked the cellar door.

            He returned to the beautiful creature that he has masterfully created on canvas. He stared at her beauty in wonder. Truly, he was stuck in perfections gaze as the pretty girl looked down on him. He was transfixed, he forgot about the rest of the world. He ignored the rising temperatures, what did a little heat matter, he had her. He ignored the burning sensation in his body. He did not need a body, all he needed was her. He ignored the pain; he would suffer for eternity if it meant he would be allowed to stare at her. What he could not ignore were the flames licking at her feet. He reached out to try and put them out, and her whole body was set to flames. He tried to put the fire out again, but every time he touched her the flames just sprang higher. He’d cursed her, he was sure of it. How could he destroy the only thing he’d ever loved? He watched as the painting crumpled and burned to the ground. He was reunited with what little sanity he had left. That was just a painting. What had he done to the love of his life, the real girl who the painting was based on? He realized he was burning, but what was a broken man to do? He didn’t care. He would burn in life, he would burn in death. He would pay for what he had done to his love.