The sullen look on his face was the substance of nightmares. He looked as though he hadn't slept in a week straight and his eyes were puffy and sunken in as if he had been crying profusely.

"Michael, are you okay?" I managed to choke out. I was horrified. He stared at the ground.

"No Anna, I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all." His head snapped up and his eyes met mine. "And it's all your fault."

"Michael…"

"It's because of you that I look this way. It's because of you that I'm miserable. I haven't eaten in three days. I haven't slept in almost five. And the little voice in my head keeps telling me that nothing is going to be okay." Almost like a zombie, he lifted his arm ever so slowly. He pointed at the painting I had seen when I entered the room. "See that? That painting right there? That's the only thing I've been able to do for almost a week. It's a portrait of you, Anna." He smiled weakly. "It started out so innocent, so pure…just like you. It was beautiful and wonderful and I smiled when I looked at. It reminded me of you; your laugh, your smile, your beautiful blue eyes..." he trailed off as his expression morphed from a smile into a look of utter despair. "It reminded me of you a little too much. The more I thought about what you did to me, the more I thought about the way you hurt me, the way you abandoned me…" His face again changed, this time to a furious glare. I had never seen him act this way before. "The more I wanted to destroy it. I wanted to make it into something ugly. Something more fitting for what you really are: a monster." A malicious grin began to creep across his face and his tone changed to almost mocking. "Turn around Anna. Look at it. Look at what you are to me now." But I couldn't. I stood frozen in fright, not knowing what he was going to do next. "I SAID LOOK AT IT ANNA!" he thundered. I started to sob. The fire in his eyes was burning red hot with the intent of revenge. Not wanting to anger him any more than I already had, I turned slowly around to look at the painting.

On the canvas was the most spine-chilling piece of art I had ever seen, if you could even refer to it as art. It was undoubtedly my face. This creature, this thing, was me…but it was all wrong. Everything about my body was distorted. My face was stretched out to the point that it took up half the canvas, and my head resembled some ridiculously disproportionate and abstract shape. My mouth was centered on my forehead, my thin, curled lips taking up most of it. My teeth were sharpened to a point, and there even appeared to be blood on the tips of some. The color of my eyes was spot on, but instead of being beautiful and majestic, they had extremely large pupils with small irises and there were five of them spread everywhere. I had no nose or ears. My hair was blonde and wavy in the painting, like my real hair, but it was stringy and, like my teeth, seemed to be stained with blood towards the bottom. My body (if you could even call it that) resembled a normal female figure, except for the part where numerous black and white striped tentacles poked out of most available patches of skin.

This was considerably the most horrendous thing it had ever been my displeasure to have seen. The more I observed it, the more I wept with fright.

"Now do you see what I see when I look at you?" he said tauntingly. I was paralyzed with fear. All I could do was stare at the painting. "I asked you a question." Still, I was at a loss for words. All of a sudden, I felt myself being grabbed by my hair on the back of my head. "DO YOU SEE THE MONSTER THAT YOU ARE?!" he shouted, pushing my face up against the canvas. I continued to cry in agony, not responding. He again tugged me, but this time in the direction of his face. The despondent gaze had returned to it.

"How could you do this to me Anna? How could you?" his voice trembled as tears started flooding over onto his pallid face.

"Michael, I really am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I just need to do what's best for me. This was all just moving so fast…"

"If it's moving too fast, then why would you say I love you? Why would you even tell me that Anna? Don't say something you don't mean."

"I do love you. I always have loved you," I smiled gingerly and started stroking the side of his face with my thumb. He released his grasp on my hair.

"I love you too." he smiled back. Before anything else could be said, he leaned in and kissed me. I kissed him back passionately. Just because I was moving didn't mean that I no longer harbored feelings for Michael. I was still very much in love with him, in fact. But the thought of leaving him was hard, and I knew the easiest way to go about it was to pretend that there was nothing left. He pulled away with from me with a grin that spanned the entirety of his face. "See, now isn't this better? This is how it's supposed to be. Anna, I promise I'll always take care of you no matter what happens."

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling mildly confused.

"I could tell by that kiss that you changed your mind about leaving. I knew you would stay with me; there's no way you would have really left. I get it now. It was all a test to see if I would stay loyal to you and love you the same way, and I did. Now we can really start our lives together," he said, grabbing my hands in his. He was serious. He really believed that what he said was true. I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that he truly thought I had changed my mind. "I should have known. You've always been such a smart girl. To put me through a trial like that was tedious, I must admit, but I understand why you did it. You just wanted to make sure that I really was the one, that I would go the distance to keep you and make you happy. And here I am, standing in front of you with open arms, ready to spend eternity with you." It was just then I realized the extent of madness to which his psychosis had driven him.

"Michael…" He pressed his finger against my lips and shushed me.

"It's okay, Anna. No need to say another word." He pulled me into a tight bear hug and held me as if he hadn't seen me in five years. He started stroking my hair gently. "I'm sorry I scared you. I would never hurt you on purpose. You know that, right?"

"Of course," I said, my voice wavering with dread. This was an absolute nightmare. "Michael, you know that I'm not staying, right…?" I asked him cautiously. I really didn't want to hurt his feelings, and I was frightened, but I knew I would only hurt him more by leading him on.

"What do you mean? Sure you are." The statement was almost a command as he pulled out of our embrace. "We just established that babe."

"No, you jumped to a conclusion based on a kiss." His head lowered. "Listen, I really do love you and you are going to do great things in this world some day. I know you are, because you already have. I mean, look at you; at such a young age, you have already made a name for yourself in the art community. Do you know how rare and extraordinary that is?" I said reassuringly. He didn't move or respond. "Hey, you know, you'll always be my first love." I lifted his chin with my fingers. "You'll always have a special place-"

Before I had the chance to finish my sentence, I felt myself falling to the ground.