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"Yes, the painting, Hallward's portrait of myself, seemed to age as if cataloguing each and every nefarious deed, reflecting the true me, the monstrous Dorian Gray. That night red blood stained the hands of the loathsome image on the portrait." Why do you reveal yourself, your crimes to me?" I asked and for the first time that evening felt fear for my safety.As if reading my mind, Mr. Gray replied, "You have nothing to fear from me, Mr. Fogg. You have done me a great service by allowing me to control my own destiny and not permitting someone who bears me a grudge, or who seeks a profit from me to do so." Do you mean, sir, that the incident with the carriage was not an accident?" I mean precisely that, Mr. Fogg."I gazed upon his angelic-like countenance, unable to accept the fact that he had lived so many years and not aged one whit."Mr. Fogg, my time on earth is now short. It is time for me to consider doing penance for all my sins. I wish to give you a gift, sir. Mind you, I have not. .." she started."Oh, come on! I am not an idiot," I cried out, and harshly pulled my hand free.Jessica dropped on the sideboard, nearly falling off the bed. Her left foot hit the floor.The scream that ensued nearly pierced my ear-drums. Her face contorted with pain, and her eyes bulged grotesquely. She was clutching her ankle, trembling all over. Gradually, her scream transformed into sobs. I took a tentative step toward her, then awkwardly kneeled beside her. She slapped me in the face, hard. I blinked, surprised how strong her hand was."I am so sorry. I thought..." I said guiltily."Get out! Now!" she hissed.I looked up at her, seeking her eyes. She was staring at her ankle, still clutching it in her hands, whimpering. I reached out and unclasped her trembling fingers."What are you doing?" she asked confusedly, the anger gone from her voice."I'm trying to help you."She just hummed, but didn't stop me as I took off her sock. Despite my caution, even the gentlest touch seemed to be.
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