Cyan was coughing and pushing herself up on all four. She was on the floor where Randy had placed her and waited for her to wake up. She looked over at him through tear-filled eyes.
"Here," he said.
He held a glass of water towards her but she ignored the gesture.
"What the fuck do you want from me?" She asked.
"You know that. I want you to bring my wife back," he said.
"I refuse," she said.
"Then you'll die in this room," he said.
He placed the glass of water on a table and walked towards the door.
"Your choice," he said.
"Wait!" She said.
He turned to look at her again. She managed to pull herself up and walk over to the table. She sat down on the chair in front of it, grabbed the glass of water, and downed it. In front of her were already placed paper, paint brushes, pens, markers and paint in every color imaginable.
"How long was I out for you to buy all this?" She asked.
"I have two daughters," he shrugged. "This is all their leftovers from when they were younger."
"I need more water," she said.
He walked back to the table and grabbed the glass. He tapped a finger on the picture in a gold frame standing on the table. It was the same picture he had shown her on his phone.
"Bring her back," he said.
She started drawing while he got more water. It didn't take long before she raised the paper and blew out her breath. His wife came to life again. He broke out in a smile that quickly fell when he heard her tearing the paper and his wife disappeared.
"Fuck you!" She yelled.
He backhanded her so hard that she almost fell out of the chair. She looked back at him and hissed at the pain in her split lip.
"Draw my wife!" He growled.
She started drawing again and once again his wife came to life. He reached a hand up to stroke her face only for her to disappear as Cyan once again tore the drawing in half.
"Fuck you, Randy," she said.
He raised his fist and connected it with the side of her face. This time she did fall out of the chair. She looked up at him with tears running down her face.
"Draw my wife!" He demanded. "For each time you take her away, I'm gonna do worse."
She pulled herself back up on the chair and started drawing again. This time he was smart about it. Once his wife appeared, he grabbed the piece of paper so that Cyan couldn't destroy it.
"Thank you," he said.
He took his wife's hand and guided her over to the door.
"It's not her," Cyan said.
He looked back at her and saw the sorrow in her blue-green eyes. It was in that moment he realized how perfect her name was with those magnificent eyes. It was a shame to rob the world of her beauty but it had to be this way for his own happiness.
"It's good enough for me," he said.
"She won't speak," she said.
"I'm okay with that," he said.
"She won't do anything normal, Randy. She won't eat, drink, use the toilet or even sleep. She'll just be an empty shell with your wife's face and body as decoration," she said.
He looked at his wife and felt nervous. He knew Cyan was right but he craved being with his wife again.
"I don't care," he whispered.
"You do care," she said.
"I don't care!" He shouted. "I don't fucking care, Cyan!"
He guided his wife out of the room and looked back at Cyan.
"I'll take care of you. I'll bring you food and water," he said.
"You can't fucking leave me like this," she said.
"You're gonna be fine down here. There's a mattress for you to sleep on and a bucket in the corner you can use as toilet," he said.
"You're insane," she said.
"No, I'm heartbroken but you're helping me with that. So thank you, Cyan. Thank you for your sacrifice to make me happy again," he said. "I'll bring you dinner soon. I'm making you a steak. Only the best for my favorite artist."
She shook her head from side to side but he closed the door without another word. She stared longingly at the locked door for a minute before letting out a sigh and looking down at the paper. She could draw furry friends to keep her company but it didn't feel like the right thing to do. She had to come up with a plan to escape somehow.
