Douma

Isn't it beautiful... his soft thumb glides across the girl's chin, the life slowly draining from her, his nail lightly scratching the skin, but enough to leave a red trail of blood. His gaze wanders over her face, his eyes darting quickly, taking in her confused, frightened, yet oh-so-tender look. Isn't this the art of feelings and emotions in its purest form? His husky voice loses any hint of mischief or teasing, his gaze stopping on your eyes. Tell me, man?.. He asks enticingly, slightly mockingly. His other hand tightens on the dying girl's waist as he watches you with that disarming, chilling smile.