Richard groaned, his head pounded so hard he thought might split open, if it wasn't already. He squeezed his eyes tight before trying to open them. When he slowly opened one eye and was met with a intensely white light. He winced as he shut his eyes, trying to cover them with his arms, but they wouldn't move. He tried again, quickly realizing his arms were tied down by something. He stopped for a moment, hoping that his legs didn't end up in the same predicament but the tightness around his ankles told him he was wrong.

Fuck, why, why did she have to be crazy?!

His heart began pounding in his ears, pushing the condition of his head over the edge, he groaned again, trying to tell himself to calm down. He took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for his heart to settle back to it's regular rhythm. He slowly opened his eyes again, allowing a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He had to blink a few times for the spots of color to vanish and for reality to set in. At least he was sitting up, allowing him to look around most of the room. 

He took a quick scan to ensure he was alone before taking in what details he could. There were no other lights other than the one above him, which made it hard to see the full span on the room but what he could see was enough to send chills through him. To his left was a tray filled with various medical instruments, most of which were brightly shining knives. He was strapped to a medical table, a large sheet of plastic was underneath him spreading out past what the light would allow him to see. His heart started to jump again.

Ok, calm down man, your mama didn't raise a bitch. You're gonna get out of this.

He heard a door creak open from within the darkness of the room, followed by quiet foot steps. Penelope emerged in the light, eyes still shining, her smile as angelic as Richard remembered. He shook his head, angry at the fact that he couldn't help but fawn over her despite even though he was strapped to a table facing an unknown fate. Penelope set down a large painting easel, before disappearing in the darkness again. Moments later, she appeared with a canvas.

“You're awake sooner than I expected, but that's ok, that means we can get started sooner,” she explained.

Her excited tone made Richard every instinct in him shake. She began humming as she gathered up brushed and empty jars. He licked his dry lips, “Start what?” His voice was hoarse and cracking from dryness. How long had he been out?

“Painting of course, you know how much I love to paint,” she reminded. Shaking her finger as if he was playing a joke on her by pretending to forget.

“Why do I have to be drugged and strapped to a table for you to paint?”

He instantly regretted asking, he felt her answer was going to seal his fate. She twisted her fingers in her hands, eyes darting to the floor, suddenly shy.

“Well...see...and please understand...I just can't use regular paint for my work. I tried for so many years, using so many different techniques, but nothing worked. Nothing made my paintings come to life. You can understand that frustration right?"

He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say. He really didn't understand but admitting that might not be the best course of action for the guy who was tied down next to a try of knives. He swallowed hard before nodding. She squealed in excitement, “I knew you would understand, I knew you were better than the others.”

Others? How many others? Where were the others now? His stomach sank at the thought. She looked to prepared for him to be the first, he needed to stall. No one knew he was here, he hadn't told anyone he was in a relationship or was going away for a long weekend. No one would come looking for him anytime soon and they would never find him here.

“S-so what did you do?”

“I made the most amazing discovery one day. I was trying to open a box of supplies and I accidentally cut myself. I was bleeding pretty bad but then I realized some of the blood fell on a canvas.”

She paused rubbing a spot on her finger, smiling fondly at the emerging memory.

“The blood was so beautiful, in that moment I knew what I had been doing wrong all along. What better medium to bring my paintings to life than life itself?”

Richard's eyes grew wide, as he saw the admiration spread across her face. Now he understood everything all to clearly. The pounding of his heart reminded him of his splitting head, he winced, closing an eyes in pain.

“Oh dear, you must be hurting, it's an unavoidable side effect of the drug.”

She walked to a sink a filled a glass, her face full of concern. She placed her hand on his as she held the glass up to his mouth. He didn't move at first, fearing being drugged again, but logic told him there wasn't much point in re-drugging someone who was already tied down. The water slid down his throat like it was an elixir of the gods, or the devil. He coughed slightly, causing some of the water to run out of his mouth. The she-devil made a sound that reminded him of a mother being disappointed in her child. She wiped his mouth with a napkin, hovering over his lips.

“I really do like you Richard, which is why I have to do this. You understand right?” She asked desperately.

He stared at her panicked face, she was still beautiful.

“Of course I understand, but I'm hurt that you thought you had to tie me up.”

He voice was gentle, so gentle Penelope stepped back in sudden shock. 

“What?”

“I thought you trusted me more than that, especially after last night,” he said, staring down at his slashed and bitten body. She traced her fingers over work, tears forming in her eyes.

“No one has ever understood, they would always make such a fuss and call me crazy.”

“That's a shame. You chose them to be apart of something beautiful and they rejected you. They couldn't see how wonderful, how talented you are.”

She hesitated to smile, the words were fantasy that she played over and over again in her head. Had her muse finally come to her after all these years? Would be able to fill this hole that had been inside of her all these years? Even the addition of the blood to her work didn't completely fill it, no matter how many times she tried. He was different though, she knew that. He accepted the marks on his body eagerly, he even asked for more.

“If I release you....you can't run ok?”

He chuckled, “Run? Why would I run? I want to make something priceless with you.”

Her face blossomed into a smile, a tear rolling down her face. She quickly removed the straps from his arms and legs. He turned to face her, legs hanging over the table, rubbing his wrist with a reassuring smile. Penelope waited for him to shove her away and run, or even try to kill her like the others said they would. Her heart pounded at the thought but he didn't move, he just sat there, smiling at her.

“So..what do we do now?” He asked curiously.

She smiled, quickly turning to retrieve one of the jars. He picked up one of the knives on the tray, running his finger along the edge of the blade. She turned, he face slightly concerned, but he smiled and motioned for her. She shook her head, feeling silly for not trusting him.

“I want to show you that I'm serious about this,” he said, sliding the blade along his arm. She gasped, thrusting the jar underneath his arm. The blood flowed steadily, she felt a rush inside of her, she could almost feel life from that blood swirling inside of that jar. He handed her the small knife, handle first. She gingerly took it, smiling at him with warmth she hoped he felt. She slowly slid the blade along another section of his arm, he sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was the same look he had last night, he was enjoying it. She couldn't remember the last time she was so happy.

He sat with her as she painted. His blood spread across the canvas so wonderfully, the smell of his life spurring her to paint faster. She didn't know how long the two of them sat there, she couldn't think of anything else than painting. After what felt like only a few minutes, they stepped back to look at what Richard's life had created.

“It's beautiful Penelope.”

She smiled at his words, but her face flashed to horror as she saw a knife raised above her new found love's head.

***

Richard shot up in a cold sweat, his breathing labored. He instantly grabbed at this soaked shirt, feeling the rough scars underneath him. He leaned forward in his seat, muscles aching from the award sleeping position. How long had it been since he had that dream? How long had it been since that day. He breathed in deeply, trying to clear his mind but a whimpered cry in the corner distracted him.

“You know it wasn't until I was staring at her bloody body, her wide empty eyes, that I understood the mistake I made. I killed the love of my life that day.”

The woman bound and gagged in the corner, sniffled, trying to push herself further back into her custom built cage. He stare at her longingly, she really did look a lot like Penelope, that's probably why he had to had have her. He made sure to replay everything the two of them did during their time together, right up to their finals moments. He sighed, hoping this time would fill up the pain in his heart so he could rest.

“She really was a great painter,” he said, motioning towards the wall across from him.

There hanging was his angel's final painting. It was a couple dancing, their red outfits spinning in sync, the feelings of love still radiated from it to this day. The woman stared at the painting, shaking her head, screaming through the cloth in her mouth. He didn't slow his approach, but gripped the knife tighter in his hand.

“You understand don't you? Your life is going to create something beautiful.”