Elizabeth

The Betrayal

I felt drawn toward her by an invisible force. It felt pleasant to be in love with her, to let her be my own master. However, deep within the core of my mind, I felt pangs of doubt. What she was doing to me, was wrong. She was driving me mad, gradually.

"Sweetly", added the dying part of me.

"She is killing you!" My subconscious screamed.

Then, it hit me hard. Looking at my hands, I noticed the strange shimmer around them. I couldn"t feel my own hands any more.

"Elizabeth! What are you doing to me, love?" I asked, in a panic.

"Nothing. It"s what we"re meant to be. I will be the one with warm blood in my veins. You"ll be the naive one. As you grow weak, I become more than your imagination". Her maniac laugh sounded strange in my fading ears.

I felt helpless and trapped. All my life, I had waited to create a masterpiece and fall in love. Now, both had drained me. I didn"t want to let go of Elizabeth, not after having waited so long.

But her love was killing me.

I was the one who had created her. Now, she was destroying me.

She left me no choice.

"Elizabeth. I want to look into your eyes!" I told her longingly.

"So do I." She said, a bit too earnestly. It broke my heart to betray her.

"Do you want me to remove the veil?"

"Can you?" She asked suspiciously. "You tried and failed."

"I have a different plan". My head was throbbing with pain. "Fool! You are a fool, James!" .

"Please." She whispered.

"You have to have faith in me".

"Please don"t put me back there! I hate that place."

"Don"t you want me to kiss you?"

At this, her shoulders relaxed and she sighed deeply. At that moment, she looked like a goddess.

She stood solemnly before the portrait, weighing her options. "I trust you, James. Please make it quick."

"I"ll paint you without the veil, Elizabeth."

In a blink, she was gone. Even as she did, I came out of the daze. Reluctantly, my eyes flitted toward the canvas. Elizabeth was back on the couch, staring back at oblivion with those deep, blue eyes. I felt a strange pang of loneliness and guilt.

But this was the only choice I had.

With shaking fingers, which had lost the shimmer as soon as she had left, I picked up my paintbrush.