"Th-this... what is all this...?" Jeanette Kensington's body trembled as she feigned ignorance, staring at the room full of paintings.
She hung her head low, as if she could retreat into a shell and hide.
"You've already seen them, haven't you? Every single painting in this room is of Naomi Kenway." He spoke through gritted teeth, as if loath to admit it. "I've never forgotten her..."
"Then what about me...?" Jeanette Kensington's eyes were bloodshot. "If she's the love of your life, then who am I? I've been by your side for so many years. Don't you feel even a little bit sorry for me?"
"Who's been accompanying whom? For all these years, I've had to endure your temper tantrums and irrational fits. You have an episode every so often, and you bite my arm like a madwoman. I could never get angry. I could only be good to you, good to you for the rest of our lives!"
Caleb Bishop rolled up his sleeve, revealing several deep, unfaded bite marks.
