His entire mouth is stained with red, a trickle of blood running down his chin. Slowly, as if barely daring to move, I bring my hand to my neck, feeling for the gash and the blood that's still pouring out of the wound. His eyes are eerily blank as his mouth curves into a sardonic smile. "Ah, but that look, Darcy darlin'. That is what I want to paint," he says as he flashes me his blood-stained teeth—red against stark white.
