Chapter NineteenMemories
Mark Woodbine grasped my arm, the free one. I tensed, tried to pull it away, but of course, his strength was ten times mine. He gave me a little warning look, his mouth making a determined jut while his jaw worked. I relaxed my arm and stared at him. He brought the knife's edge against the inside of my wrist and just held it there. “You know that I can peel the flesh off a person in about twenty minutes,” he said in a detached tone. “That's my personal best. I like to begin with the wrists and work my way to the torso.” He stopped abruptly and looked at me. “Also, I like to cut the head off. I like the hole there in the neck. It's nice and slick with blood… He was about to slice my arm open, then he would peel the flesh from me. I was unable to move my other hand,
