the portrait

The Portrait
Prologue:

"Did you have to buy such an expensive gift for Hank? Debbie asked.
Robert sighed. He drove his Mercedes out of the parking lot and turned left. " For the umpteenth time, yes. Hank is my best friend and it's his birthday today. He's going to love it.
Debbie grunted. "But¦she began.
"Enough already Deb! Roberts intervened. His hands tightened into fists. He was losing his patience with Debbie and wondered why he ever married her. He took a deep breath and continued.
" Hank loves paintings, and he would love to add this one to his collection. What I don't get is why you don't appreciate hank? He's a nice guy. Robert said, controlling his temper.
Debbie frowned. " It's just that he gets pretty testy if you talk about marriage. I mean what's up with that? The last time I teased him about getting married he almost bit my head off.
Robert stifled a grin. "Leave him alone. There's probably a reason why he acts like that.
"Yeah! He's weird! Debbie said dryly. "Besides, I don't like the painting. There's something ¦wrong ¦
Robert sighed loudly. " Oh please, not your women instincts again. He said turning towards the driveway. He switched off the engine and stared warily at his wife.
"Look, we're going in, so no more complains. And, he's going to love our gift. Man, his eyes will pop out.
Debbie frowned. "Don't be so sure. She said irritably
Robert sighed again.

Hank looked out the window and waved at Robert. It was his birthday and Robert and Debbie were his best friends. Well, maybe Debbie wasn't that great a friend; nevertheless he tried to be polite to her because of his friendship with Robert.
It was his 27th birthday and he wanted to enjoy it to the max. And no one, even Debbie couldn't spoil it for him. He looked at Debbie who seemed annoyed with something. Hank smiled. He could guess what had happened. Debbie was probably nagging about him to Robert who did no agree with her.
Hank groaned. 'Why does Debbie have to keep asking me the same thing?' he asked himself. He closed his eyes tightly. How can he tell anyone what happened six years ago?

The doorbell rang and hank opened it, smiling.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Robert and Debbie said in unison.
Hank grinned. "Thanks guys. He said shaking hands with Robert and Debbie.
"This is for you. Robert said thrusting the painting unceremoniously in hanks hands.
"Hey! You shouldn't have. hank said politely.
"I know Debbie muttered softly, but hank heard it.
"So what would you guys like to drink before dinner? he asked, ignoring Debbie.

After dinner, hank sat on the sofa sipping his coffee.
"Well, open your present. Robert said excitedly. Debbie rolled her eyes.
Hank grinned as he caught Debbie's expression. "Okay! Lets see what MY BEST friend got me. He said looking at Debbie all the while who looked miffed by the announcement.
He smiled as he opened the gift-wrapping.
"Well? What do you think? Robert asked excitedly.
Hank stared at the portrait and frowned. The portrait was of a woman in a veil holding a scarlet rose in her left hand. Even though hank could not make out the woman's features behind the golden veil, something about her disturbed him.
"It¦it's great. He said hesitatingly.
"Hank, are you alright? Debbie asked. " You look pale.
'Wouldn't you like it if I was sick' hank thought, but instead smiled at Debbie. "Yeah I am okay. Just tired I guess.
"Oh well, we better leave then and let you rest. Come on Robert. Debbie said.
Robert rolled his eyes and winked at hank. 'Women.' He mouthed.
Hank grinned.
"Ok then. Robert said. "See you later okay? Take care.
Hank walked them to the door and stood while Robert reversed the car.
Robert looked out the window and waved at hank, which waved back. Debbie gave a phony smile and put up her hand.
Hank grinned at her. ' Good riddance'. He thought.
As soon as Robert and Debbie left, hank closed the door and stared at the painting leaning on the coffee table.
' I hate it'. He thought. He went into his bedroom and took of his shoes.
"Phew! What a long day he said to himself. He changed to his nightclothes and walked back to the living room.
"Lets see which movie is on cable. He said picking up the remote and turning the TV on.
Just then he saw a red rose near the television. "Huh! Where did that come from? he said bending down and picking it up.
He stared at it curiously, when suddenly he glanced at the wall.
The painting Robert and Debbie had given him was put up on the wall, and the strangest thing was that the woman was no longer holding the rose. Hank's eyes widened and he dropped the rose.
"Oh my god!! he said softly. He rushed towards the wall and tried to tug the painting off the wall. But no matter how hard he pulled; the painting wouldn't budge an inch.
"Get off! he screamed. But no matter how hard he pulled the painting stayed put. Just then, the canvas started to glow and became red hot. Hank pulled back his hands and cried out in pain.
"What's going on? he cried out and closed his eyes as the canvas grew brighter. When the light faded away, hank opened his eyes cautiously.
His eyes fell on the picture and his heart missed a beat. The canvas was empty. The woman was no longer in the picture, but before his eyes.
Hank stared at the figure before him with wide eyes.
"Hank? the figure called out.
"Wh¦how do y-you kn-know my name? hank blubbered.
"You forgot me? the figure asked angrily.
Hank stepped back and fell on the couch as the figure walked towards him. The woman was completely hidden by the veil and no matter how hard hank tried he couldn't recognize her.
The woman placed her hands on the veil, and pushed it off her face.
"You don't recognize me hank? She asked furiously.
Hank screamed. The woman's face was completely burned on the right side.
"Come on, hank. You used to love me. The woman said tauntingly.
"S-s-Sara? hank asked. "It's you? Its really you?
Sara laughed. " Well at least you remember me.
"B-but y-you're dead! hank said.
Sara laughed even harder. "Yes. Yes, hank. I am dead. But I came back¦for you,
Hank's eyes widened with horror. W-why?He asked
Sara smiled " because of the promise hank. The promise you made to me.
Hank got up from the couch and stared at Sara. " You lie Sara. I never promised you anything. You took advantage of my situation back then. But I wont let you do that.
Sara laughed. " What are you going to do hank? Murder me? Like you did years back?
Hank's face fell. " I never killed you. He screamed.
"Oh no? Sara asked sweetly. " It was because of your love that I took my life.
Hank gulped. " Sara, I still love you, but you¦you lied to me. You married me but you were having an affair with my best friend.
Sara glared at hank. "I would never! she screamed.
"Yes, you were! Hank screamed back. " You think I was foolish, but I knew. I knew all the time. Hank said, lost in his memories. " That's why I had to kill you. No one goes behind my back Sara. That's why I burned my own house down. I knew you were inside the house with Paul, my best friend. It was the perfect opportunity. I burned my house and people actually thought that I had died too, hand in hand with you. Hank snorted. " They didn't know that it was your boy friend Paul who was with you and not me. But it was the perfect escape. Escape from your betrayal. Hank pointed at Sara.
Sara started to cry. " I'm sorry hank. I really Am. she sniffed. " I'm the one who is wrong here. But¦ she said staring at hank. " I am taking you with me. She cried out and hugged hank fiercely.
Hank started to suffocate. He couldn't breathe. It was as if someone was smothering him with a pillow. He heard a loud crack and realized that one of his ribs had cracked. He cried out in pain, but Sara hugged him even furiously until hank could endure it no longer. He collapsed in a puddle of his own blood with a loud thud. Sara stared at him and laughed. She grew fainter and fainter until she was there no more.
The next morning hank's body was found, but what surprised Robert and Debbie, was that the woman in the painting was no longer wearing a veil. She was smiling as if she had just attained happiness.

THE END

by: palvi sharma