CHAPTER 1

Everyone in the city had known about the death of Dorian Gray. How they had found a wrinkled and disgusting old man in his place, stabbed, in front of his portrait, was always gossiped at the dinner table every now and again. No one was really sure how it had happened. All they knew was that it did happen. I clutched my shawl around me tighter to bite the nipping cold air that was blowing the streets.

Snow crunched under my feet as I made my way to my squandered apartment in the dumps of this city. When I heaved open the door, I was greeted by Mrs. Mortimer, the landowner of the property who was always nagging me to pay my rent. She was a bony, frail, shell of a woman, who often looked sick with age and her white hair matted and tangled most of the time.

"You're late again on the rent Jewels!" she hissed, looking up at me with her dim, gray eyes.

I sighed at my nickname and pulled out a silver coin, the only one I had managed to scrape off of my boss. She ripped it from my numb fingers and bit it, as if her life depended on it.

"That's a dear!" She laughed. "That's a good girl, Jewels!"

She bustled off somewhere down the dark and gloomy halls, laughing madly. I shook my head and ascended the stairs to my room. As soon as I was inside, I locked the door and sat down on my tiny bed.

I had passed by Dorian's home earlier this afternoon. The place had been boarded up after his supposed death and parents told their children that if you passed by it at night, you could hear the piano Dorian always played, giving away a haunting melody that would rattle your bones. That had been three years ago. Back when I had had a very nice job and a decent apartment. Now, I was stuck here.

I laid down and looked up at the rotting ceiling. How I missed him so. A smile crept on my face. He had been so youthful and beautiful. I sat up once again and undid the tight bun of my honey-colored hair, letting it cascade over my shoulders and down my back.

It still puzzled me, though. How Mr. Gray had died. It was all rather odd, really. A once young man soon replaced with a devilish appearance of himself. And then that's when I remembered the portrait. The one his Basil friend had painted for him before all that mess had started to happen.

Since I had been the maid there, after Mrs. Leaf had been fired for reasons unknown, I was always the one cleaning. Of course, I sometimes didn't bother, since Mr. Gray had always been out and about with some other important business and he didn't mind if I cleaned or not since he never expected company during that time except for a few friends every now and then. Which was why I had been the one to see the painting, that day.

Almost finished, I thought. Just about done. One more room to go. I walked up the stairs, to the one room no one really wanted to go to since it was such a hassle to get to. I somehow managed to pry the door open and enter. The place was a little dark, except for the little bit of light that peaked through the small window on the ceiling. There was hardly anything in there, either. Just for some cobwebs and dust. Easy cleaning, really. But that was when my eyes caught sight of something on the other side of the room, a sheet thrown over it. It bore the shape of a frame, so I decided I would go ahead and clean it and ask Mr. Gray if he would like me to have Christopher to hang it up later.

So, I walked over to the large bundle and was just about to tear away its cover before a silky voice caught me.

"What are you doing up here?"

I jumped, startled, and dropped the corner of the sheet I had had in my hand. Turning, I caught sight of my handsome employer Mr. Dorian Gray. Even though he was around his mid-thirties, he shown no signs of aging, his curly blonde hair, glossy and full, his ivory face and square jaw strikingly attractive still.

He was dressed in a new suit, one that he had probably just recently bought. But what caught me off guard was his eyes. They were dark and almost stormy. Which made me tremble at the sight of him. "I-I was just cleaning, Mr. Gray."

"How did you get up here? This room was supposed to be inaccessible to everyone." He stated.

"The door was unlocked, Mr. Gray. I figured you had just left it open for me to clean."

"Did you now?" He walked closer to me and I felt my body shake. Even though he was beautiful, he was a very frightening man. I had once heard that he had been a kind boy, full of love and life. And, now, it was gone. Many presumed it had been the work of Lord Henry, but none ever gossiped about it excessively.

"Y-y-yes."

"Hm." He startled to circle me, as if he were an animal and I was his prey.

I gulped and looked down at the floor.

This only made him chuckle. "Are you afraid of me, Lucy?"

I didn't say anything.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories. And being so young, I'm sure you were naïve enough to believe them."

I wanted to retort with something, but I decided against it. He was my employer after all.

"You do know you can speak to me, Lucy. I won't kill you."

He had probably meant for it as a joke, for he laughed boisterously at it. Still, I said nothing. I heard him stop behind me and soon felt his hot breath on my neck, making me quiver again.

"So young. So fair."

As are you, I wanted to say. But I didn't. I knew the stories about him alright. Even though he never really shown it, I heard he had had many exclusive affairs with many young women. So I decided against the feelings that were pulsing in my blood, and thought rationally about the situation.

"Did you want to look at the portrait, Lucy?" He asked, his lips now on my skin.

My breath staggered, but I didn't say anything.

I felt him grab my upper arm and squeeze it tight, forcing me to gasp. "Answer me."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes I wanted to see it."

"Do you still want to?"

His voice sounded enchanting and so captivating. But I just shook it away. "I must be going now, Mr. Gray. I'm sorry for intruding upon your things." I tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed the strings of my apron and reeled me back against him.

This time, he gripped both of my arms and his voice didn't sound so friendly. "If you ever- EVER- come up here again." He chuckled. "Well, let's just say it won't be a very charming evening for either of us."

He shoved me away from him with enough force to send me stumbling towards the door.

Shaking, I opened it and walked out. But not before turning quickly to see him turn and yank down the curtain. I only caught a quick glimpse of the painting before I shook my head and practically ran down the stairs.

That was the first time I had been up in that room. But it wouldn't be my last.