Rouge is not mine. Everything else, however, is.

The Phear Collection

I heard the tauntingly familiar sound of the door slowly creeking open. I stretched a little and let my scrape against the wall. "Hello there, My name is Rouge. May I ask what interests you in the Phear Collection?"

They always answer the same. Either a little brat trying to act goth, a collector with an eye for mystery, or somone who would just like to hear a story.

"May I show you around?" I asked politely. That was one thing I was always proud of. I may not like the person, but I'm always kind and polite. They walked over to a dark chest in the corner of the room. The doll chest.

"Excuse me! I'm sorry but neither the chest nor whats in it is for sale. Whats ib it? Um…N-nothing. Nothing important. You look like the kind who would enjoy something like this." I walked over to a roughly drawn painting with slashes and scratches all over it.

"This? This is a very unique piece.True, the painting itself isn't worth much, but the story, that's worth a hundred night mares. Why is all the paint red? Well, for that story we must travel back to when my grandmother was a child.

--Never without your face—

Their was once a rich man. Now why would you think he was old? He was quite young, actually. Just a little older than myself. He didn't have any friends, and he didn't have any family. True, he had his dog, but is that really friendship? So, one day he decided to get a maid. He didn't need one, he just wanted the company. Many appailed, but only two caught his eye. A young cat girl named Rosette, and a her Sister, Juliet.

Rosette and the man instantly fell in love. Juliet was happier than ever over this. They had nobody in their lives, they were poor, and this was like winning the lottery. Every day, the three would spend hours talking. The thing that interested Rosette the most was his incredible painting skills. He would spend almost the entire day, simply painting a simple thing. After two weeks, the man got engaged to Rosette. As soon as she said yes, he rushed out the room, and begun his masterpiece. Juliet could not persuade him to eat, Rosette could not persuade him to eat, his dog could only watch.

After one full month of toil, it was complete. A painting of his beloveds face. Nobody could begin to count the hours he had put into that, but he didn't care. It was worth it to see the smile on his fiance's face. He had not seen her for weeks, so he could not wait to show her her wedding gift.

"Rosette! Rosette!" He screamed. Yet he heard no reply.

"Juliet! Juliet where are you? Have you seen Rossete?" He looked until the night, until he heard cries from the attic. He rushed up as fast as she could. There, he saw Juliets crying over the body of his beloved, crushed under a wardrobe. He could not speak. He went over to his loved face. It was ruined. Cuts, scatches everywhere. He could do nothing. He turned to juliet.

"H-how did this happen?" He began.

"She was cleaning!" Juliet screamed. "The wardrobe fell- When I found her she told me she was calling for you for hours!"

"How could I hear her…" then he realised. The painting. The one he had spent hours on. It distracted him from everything. He could not eat, he could not sleep, he could not hear.

Years later, they found his body, lying over the painting. He was drained of blood. His blood was all over the paint brush. But before him, lay a beautiful painting of his beloveds face, torn to pieces by his anger. Why had he done this? A bizarre form of suicide? Redemption? Hatred? Or could he simply not stand to see his beloveds eyes. Always staring at him. Mocking him. Was he too filled with remourse?

"So, you see why this is worth so much? You want it? Well, the only adice I can give you is not to stare directly at it's eyes. They say they were his final strokes,"

I accepted the money with delight. The person left with a picture worth a thousand words and a story worth two lives.

The end! More soon!