Henry Ford extinguished the cigarette butt, walked over slowly, and looked at Iris Harris's pale and blue face on the operating room bed.
He raised his hand, stroked the skin on her cheek, then patted it: "If you're awake, stop pretending to be dead."
Seeing no response from her, a cruel smile appeared on his face. He raised his hand and swatted away the doctor's hand stitching the wound, digging his thumb into her freshly sutured flesh.
The pain was unbearable for any human being.
Even with anesthetic, Iris Harris opened her eyes in pain, unable to make a sound due to the intensity of it, only gasping with her mouth open.
The skin tore open again, blood flowing down from her bare shoulder. Henry Ford pulled his hand from her wound and, with a faint smile, licked the blood from his fingertips.
Iris's vision went dark, and in the blurred lights and shadows, the man's face was like a demon from hell come to claim her life.
