Three rules must never be broken.
The victim trapped in the painting must never leave their chair. They must never refuse to answer whenever the subject of the painting spoke. And they must never look behind them.
Isabella crossed her arms, a light pout on her face. She said in a slightly irritated voice, "Most fail at the last juncture, dear guest."
She clicked her tongue in slight displeasure and shook her head.
"I suppose you're no longer my guest."
Adam lay sprawled on the ground. He was no longer inside the portrait, but back in the dilapidated hall.
Beside him was a blotch of paint — the remnants of the chair he had been sitting on.
A few minutes ago, when Isabella had allowed him to leave her bedroom, Adam had almost risen from his chair. The mental exhaustion from having spent the entire night inside the painting had nearly made him forget the first rule.
Never leave your chair.
