Penelope Grant was dead when I woke up. I had never seen a dead body before. It was like they say in the books.. She looked peaceful.
We were one place, then another. You must understand, Teddy, I'd never kill her on purpose. I was... How does a lonely artist find herself murdering a stranger?
I don't remember when she died. Or was about to die. I know we danced. We must have eaten pomegranate, because I woke with the taste of it in my mouth.. Or maybe I..."
And why is it that a life is taken, then inspiration is struck upon me? Oh, couldn't it be trauma? Love? But I suppose... in a way... I loved her. In those few moments I knew her, that is. If you saw what I saw, you'd agree just how lovely she was in her most vulnerable time. It's that and the terrors; I can't help but to paint it.