Painting had always been my escape. It was the one thing I really wanted to do, but I’d always been told it wasn’t a career choice. It was a hobby. I should’ve followed my dreams and lived off the streets until I made it. I envied those that were that brave. Leave home and jet off to wherever to make their dream a reality. I’d always been too scared, but looking back, I could’ve traveled the world or gone to see my dad, and I hated myself so much that I let my mother control me with her purse strings. I also wouldn’t have ended up attached to a wall with a serial killer as my host.

“Don’t do that, don’t pretend to like it. I can clearly see all you do is an act, and this is no different.” He turned the pad around to show me my work, which might have been the best piece I’d ever created.

“I’m not lying. I only lie when needed. I do not need to lie to you about your art. Your work should be on walls in homes or museums,” he said, looking down at his image again.

I’d never told anyone other than my mother that painting was what I wanted to do, so he was either doing that thing where he could look inside my mind, or he meant it. My chest constricted, and a warm fuzzy sensation traveled throughout my body. How did he always do that? How did he always say just the right thing?

“Why did you paint my expression like this,” he asked as he stepped close.

“What does it matter?” Crossing my arms, I looked away from him and could feel the tears pricking the back of my eyes.

There was no logical reason to want to cry. Was I crying over the life I’d never get back, the one I’d wished I’d lived, or the fact that any feeling I thought he had for me was nothing more than a grand act? Was I crying for all the people that had been in this room before me or those that were yet to come? Or was I crying because, deep down, I had feelings that I shouldn’t?

“It matters to me.” Cain stopped in front of me.

Sighing, I looked into his eyes. “I painted it because that’s how I see you. A man that has demons he wrestles, and the strain that it causes.”

“I don’t understand.” He tapped the image. “I don’t have any demons.”