Without hesitating, he whipped out the dagger on his belt- and in one smooth move, he slashed through the flesh of his open palm.
Stacy's eyes widened in shock. Her lips separated as she gasped aloud. From the white of his palm, a streak of red blood appeared.
She swallowed huskily- watching the blooming and budding red gush out of his palm. She lifted her gaze to his face. Both his eyes were sunk in the hollows of their sockets. His face had a faraway-distant look. Like he was lost in a daze.
He closed his fist mechanically- squeezing assiduously.
In rich trickles, the blood spilled out of his palms- drizzling in heavy drops- landing squarely on the baby spiders beneath. Stacy's breath ceased. Along the length of his outstretched arm, the crease of his sleeves ruffled as he twirled his hands around- showering the newborn black widows in a rainfall of his blood.
