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It was a cold and sudden chill across my body. I knew not where I was but I knew it could not be good. Screams and cries were all I could hear through the echoes. Why was I in such a place? I had not committed a crime nor villainy act towards any being. Was it because of betrayal? Had I betrayed someone? No…I only betrayed myself upon that day of this horrific fate.
I was his darling dear. Never outmatched I was to his love against any woman. How I wish I could say I was his only love, but there was another. His paintings were before me, always and forever. He had not lived a perfect life as far, but he was wanted by every woman due to his fame as an artist. I, being the daughter of the man who owned The Art Museum of all France, had caught his eyes attention. If that was the only reason he loved me, I’ll never know, but I held a strong passion for his painting, but not yet him. It was a neutral love for the two of us, not a match seen in the heavens by the angels of God or one seen between us.
It was upon fate that we met in our life times. My father always threw the grandest balls for new paintings donated to the museum and he had been the guest of honor. Only a fool would donate all his paintings without giving a price, but he had; or so I thought at the time.
It was at that very ball where our destinies crossed and forever would be tangled with loops and knots. For when my father announced those very words, those intolerant words, my fate became clear to me and me alone.
My father was a very powerful figure in our fair country. Such fame shined on my dear father and him, the growing figure in the greatest paintings since Da Vinci. As a woman, I could not achieve that same fame as him. Only the Grand Duchess was granted the honor as a famous woman. I had not realized he had his eye on me, for love or for use. Upon that ball, those words of my announced engagement to him were what paralyzed my body in shock. He had donated his entire set of his own paintings not for a fee, but for my hand in marriage.
It was not a happy marriage for the two of us. He would always say how he should of sold his paintings instead. The fool, he had been in debt because of his gambling ways. Even his alcohol was bringing hell to our doorstep. He had not sold a painting in months and which grew to years over such a rapid movement of time. When he married me, no woman cared for him or his paintings. He was no longer a growing figure, but now a shadow of a once great artist.
It wasn’t long before strange men came to the door, demanding money and without money to give them, he naturally gave them me. To please them became my only use in life. And I was a fool for believing he wouldn’t gamble after these events, but he believed he could win the money we needed. He became in denial of life. He believed his life was perfect. That no problems existed with in his mule headed mind.
At last, we lost everything on a fateful January morning. He gave me to those he was indebted to so they would not take his own life. I was his last possession and I had to pay that price. I was kept in a dark, damp room, not a bit of heat existed there. I was no longer a use to anyone and so my final day of life had come at last. No longer would I feel this pain and no longer would I have any worries. But I would leave this world without knowing the feeling of love or knowing its meaning in one’s heart. My only wish before my departure from this world is that my dear husband will also be granted forgiveness for his sins, for I failed as his wife to clean him of those very sins my self.

There is a chemical in your brain

Interesting.. You have a unique way to write!