"What do you mean my paintings are alive?" Marcel frowned at me and for a second I was scared and embarrassed to speak.
It doesn't really make sense but it's the truth.
"I..I don't know but it's the truth," I summoned up boldness.
"I see them in my room. or was it in my dreams?" I was suddenly confused.
Did the figures actually appear in my room or did I dream about it? I wasn't certain which but I was sure I had seen them.
"So you are saying you saw a four headed beast with four tails in your room?" Marcel said in a sarcastic tone. I could tell he thinks I am speaking crazy.
"Yes_No...I mean, it was dark so I didn't really see how it's body looks like, so I don't really know if it has four heads or four tails but those faces and eyes. The blue and yellow ones. I have seen them before. They were glowy. It must be real. You have to believe me," I said and I don't know why I was desperate for him to believe me.
"You don't expect me to believe that nonsense," he said, the frown on his face folding even harder.
"Paintings can't be alive," he further stated.
"Then tell me why the images in your paintings keep appearing to me then?"
"Simple. You have seen me paint them before. I remember vividly you entering into my painting room while I was still painting this particular piece," he said and I didn't like the fact that he was making it seem like I don't know what I was saying or I am making things up.
"I am not stupid. I know what I saw and I am not making this up," I said, evidently frustrated.
"Your brain is confusing things. You can't differentiate between reality and fantasy. I think you need an appointment with a doctor," he said and I felt like punching him right in his mouth.
How dare he imply I am running mad?!
"I don't need to see a fucking doctor," I frowned.
"You do. You ain't well," he said rather calmly but it only made me more upset.
"I am fine. Nothing is wrong with me."
"Then act normal," he reprimanded me like I was some little child.
No, he didn't just do that?!
"This is pointless," I groaned in a low voice with my arms folded in anger and I didn't speak of the matter anymore.
I was sure I saw the images of the painting in my room. I am so sure but now because of what Marcel said there was this little atom of doubt creeping in my mind that maybe I am becoming mentally unstable and thinking of it it's not very far fetched based on what I have experienced this past month. Getting betrayed, sexually assaulted, sold and held captive it's only a matter of time before I start experiencing a mental breakdown.
Maybe I do need to see a doctor
The art exhibition went on normally with Marcel piece the center of attention. People seemed to be fascinated by the strange art and they had many questions to ask him but Marcel seemed to be more interested to hear their thoughts about the painting instead.
".. thank you but I would love to hear what you think the art depicts?" He repeated the same thing to everyone who asked him about the meaning of the painting, this time around it was an elderly woman who from her appearance looks like she was in her late forties or early fifties.
"You want to know what I think about it?" The lady seemed thrilled by the question.
"Yes. If you don't mind," Marcel said calmly.
"Sure," the lady smiled then took her eyes to the painting.
The way she looked at the painting tenderly it felt like she was gazing at the love of her life. It was obvious she loved the painting.
"Am I allowed to touch it?" She asked and Marcel nodded.
"You are free," he said like a gentleman which he is not and the old lady smiled and gently and graciously grazed her hands on the painting.
The woman started to express her thoughts in words and I was left intrigued by what she heard to say "The painting is rich and captivating truly. The four faces and their different eye colors reflect raw emotions and desires we all have as humans. Desires that control and shape who we are, both the good and the bad and the beautiful and ugly all reside inside everyone of us and we are nothing but a reflection of which emotion chose to surface," she paused and a smile formed on her face before she continued.
"The term two face is usually used to depict someone who isn't straight forward but the truth is every one of us are four faced, capable of both evil and good just as this remarkable art portrays," she said and she sounded so insightful.
"Thank you," Marcel remarked calmly when she was done speaking but I could tell he was also intrigued by the old lady's thoughts more than everyone else he had asked the question.
The art exhibition ended and finally it was time for us to return home but we can't travel back to the States today so we had to go back to his other mansion.
It was a lonely journey back home as I just stared out the car window observing the beautiful night of a different continent for the first time. I really didn't want to look or talk to Marcel as I was still upset with him for trying to imply I am mentally ill.
I must say though Rome's night is very beautiful and quite romantic as well as I could see different couples holding hands and making out in the streets and it just made me remember my fiance Mike and how so in love we were ourselves.
Will I ever hold his hands and kiss him ever again?
I was having a bitter, sweet experience from watching the lovers make out but then something caught my attention. Someone actually. Amongst the couples making out in the streets a man caught my attention not because of his looks or anything but because he looked so familiar, however I don't know where I had seen him before.
Oh yes! I remembered now. He is the groom to Marcel's sister Kate but is the lady with him Kate? I really didn't see her face but I was sure she would be the one since they were acting like a couple in love.
They are here in Rome? Could it be for their honeymoon??
I turned to face Marcel. "Why didn't you tell me your sister is in Rome?" I said with a frown.
"What sister?" He wore a confused look.
"Your sister Kate," I replied and he gave me a questionable stare.
"What are you talking about? Kate isn't in Rome she is in the States"
"But I just saw her and her husband just now," I said.
"You saw Kate?" He questioned.
"Well I didn't quite see her face but I saw her husband or I might be mistaken and is simply someone who looks like him," I said as I was slowly starting to doubt if I saw right or maybe it's another delusion.
"Kate isn't in Rome but Jackson is," Marcel said more to himself then he turned to face me.
"Where did you say you saw him?" He asked with a serious expression.
"Over there but I am not sure.." I was starting to think I might just have caused a big trouble.
"Turn the vehicle around," Marcel said to the driver calmly but I could tell he was vexed.
Swiftly the driver turned the vehicle around and drove it towards the couple I had pointed to and as the vehicle got close to the couple I became certain that the man is actually Kate's husband Jackson but the lady is definitely not Kate and they were busy making out.
This is bad.
Marcel didn't even wait for the vehicle to park properly before he came down. In fact I didn't know how he got out. All I knew was that one minute he was inside the vehicle with me and the next minute he was outside and immediately he pounced on Jackson.
"You son of a bitch!" His right fist landed perfectly on Jackson's left chin and it sent the poor man crashing to the ground.
"Babe!" The lady who was with Jackson screamed in horror and hurriedly went to check up on the bleeding Jackson on the ground.
"Babe..are you alright?.." she inquired worriedly but her choice of words angered Jackson.
"Stop calling me babe, bitch!" Jackson screamed at her to her surprise and mine too.
Weren't they just making out a couple of seconds ago?
"Ba...be." She stressed her words.
"I said stop calling me that! I am not your babe!" Jackson pushed her away.
"So this is what you do behind your wife's back, huh?" Marcel was steaming like boiling water as he dangerously approached Jackson.
"No..no..no. It's not what you think. She is just a work partner.." Jackson tried to deny even though he had been caught red handed.
"Wife?? You didn't tell me you were married, babe." The lady said and she wasn't really helping his course.
"I said stop calling me babe! You know I am married and you are nothing to me. We don't have any relationship. You are just my work colleague." Jackson was lying through his teeth.
I didn't believe anything he said and I am sure Marcel didn't either and I was right because Marcel picked him up from the ground by the collars of his shirt+ rough handling him.
"Hey...Hey... what are you doing?..let me go.." the fear was evident in Jackson's voice and eyes.
Marcel picked him up effortlessly but only to drop him back to the ground in a cracking sound. Jackson landed painfully back first on the concrete floor.
"Ahhhh.." he cried in agony.
"What's your problem? You are hurting him!" His mistress tried to defend him but it only took a glare from Marcel to get her running away from the scene like a chicken.
Jackson was left alone, none of the passersby dared to help; it was like they all were terrified of Marcel. Why wouldn't they? He had death in his eyes. I have never seen him this upset before and I was genuinely scared for Jackson's life.