Elise
The gallery seemed to transform as Damien guided me further, into a section I hadn't noticed during my first visit. The walls were covered with darker, more personal paintings—canvases that seemed like windows into a world forgotten by light. The shapes twisted and contorted, faces mutilated by pain, ruined landscapes, silhouettes imprisoned in shadow. Each work breathed suffering, solitude, but also a kind of morbid beauty.
Damien stopped in front of one particular painting. It was immense, almost oppressive. A nighttime scene, a devastated landscape where the moon was eclipsed by dark clouds, and at the center of the canvas, a feminine silhouette, alone, standing on a fragile bridge above an abyss. Her arms were outstretched toward the void, as if trying to grasp something invisible, something immutable.
"Look at this painting," Damien said in a deep voice. "It represents a lost soul, just like you are. She's searching for something, but she doesn't yet know what she needs to find."
I slowly approached the painting, drawn to the solitude it exuded. This woman, this fragile figure, I understood her. I felt like her, suspended between two worlds, searching for something that eluded me.
"I… I'm not sure I understand," I murmured, my voice hesitant. "What do you mean?"
Damien turned his gaze toward me, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "She's searching for the truth, but she's afraid to discover it. She feels vulnerable, just as you feel right now. There are truths that are too dark to be accepted. But sometimes, it's the only thing that can set us free."
I swallowed hard, Damien's words striking me like a punch to the stomach. The truth. What truth? And why did I feel like this truth concerned me more than anyone else in this gallery?
Damien stepped forward too, his footsteps silent on the wooden floor. He stopped next to me, and for a moment, we stood there together, in front of the painting, immersed in a heavy silence.
"You have secrets, Elise," he said at last, his voice softer, almost a whisper. "I can see it in your eyes. You're running from something. Something from your past."
I tensed. How dared he? I had never allowed him to delve so deeply into my thoughts. Yet, he was right. There were things, fragments of a past I had buried deep inside me, memories I dared not face.
"I have nothing to tell you," I said, almost defiantly, but my voice betrayed a certain fragility. "I don't want to talk about my past."
Damien looked at me without replying, a strange gleam in his dark eyes. "I don't want to force you to speak. But the time will come when you'll have to face your demons, Elise. It's inevitable."
He slowly moved away from the painting, leaving me alone in front of the work. "You see, art has this strange ability to reveal what we hide from ourselves. And sometimes, it's not what we expected."
I stayed there for a moment, my eyes fixed on the silhouette of the woman painted on the canvas. Her body was tense, frozen in a moment of suspense, as if she were hesitating to jump into the darkness. I wondered if I too was suspended between two worlds, unable to make a decision, trapped by my own fears.
"Damien," I finally said, my voice cracked with an emotion I couldn't identify. "Why this gallery? Why all these… dark works?"
He turned his head slightly toward me, a half-smile on his lips. "Because beauty sometimes lies in darkness. And because, like me, you're searching for something you don't yet understand. These works aren't just paintings. They are reflections. Reflections of who you are, of who you've been, and of what you could become."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding faster. There was something in the way he spoke, something deep and threatening at once. But there was also, deep down, a glimmer of hope that drew me in, a promise that suffering had meaning, that pain could lead to something greater.
"So, what should I do?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "What should I be looking for here?"
Damien moved closer again, this time with a calculated slowness. He leaned toward me, as if to ensure I was listening carefully. "You must plunge into the darkness. You must accept facing what you've been running from. Only then can you move forward, only then can you understand what haunts you."
He stopped just beside me, and for the first time, his gaze seemed more human, almost vulnerable. "Because you can never escape the shadows, Elise. They are part of you. And if you don't accept them, they will devour you."
A chill ran down my spine. I wasn't sure what he meant. But at the same time, something inside me knew he was right. I couldn't keep running forever. My demons followed me, always there, always ready to emerge at the slightest opening.
"I'll… I'll try," I finally said, my voice soft but full of resolve. "I'll try to understand."
Damien looked at me for a moment without saying a word, then turned toward one of the other canvases, as if anticipating my response. "Good decision. But remember this: understanding is not the same as healing. Sometimes, a truth must be accepted before healing can begin. And sometimes, that hurts more than it heals."
I followed his gaze and fixed my eyes on the painting he showed me. An even more disturbing work than the previous one, where distorted faces seemed to tear themselves from the canvas, stretching outward as if they wanted to escape. One of them seemed to stare directly into my eyes.
I closed my eyes for a moment, my mind spinning. I knew I had just taken a step I could never undo. The shadows around me were closer, more tangible, but I had no choice. I had to move forward.