From the tip of the little boy’s tongue to the tip of his toes was covered with red paint. Art could be messy at times, so Mr. Doug guessed he didn’t have enough time to clean himself up before he got there.

The little boy looked up at Mr. Doug and smirked trying to act intimidating. The little boy was just like a scared little kitten trying to act fierce. He was trying so hard to scare Mr. Doug, that Mr. Doug couldn’t help but laugh. 

He bellowed out laughing, causing him to hold his stomach in pain with tears flowing down his face. But this made the kitten, the little boy, even more angry.

“Stop laughing!” The little boy snapped.

Mr. Doug wiped the tears off his face, “I'm sorry about that. It's been a while since I had such a chuckle, but I should give you more respect, shouldn’t I? You're an artist too, I assume.”

The boy sat there in silence.

“Ohhhh, don’t even try to denine it! The paint you‘re covered with is the same color as the piece of art behind me. It’s painfully clear to me that you are the one who stole what was mine.”

Mr. Doug waited, but he was only answered with more silence. So Mr. Doug got down on the floor to get a better look at him. The boy was indeed a rarity with beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair as good as white. But in those eyes something else looked back, it was something that sent chills down his spine, and it wasn’t something Mr. Doug wanted to look any deeper so he stood back up. Both of them were to much alike for Mr. Doug to handle. 

At this point, both of their existence was a threat to the other ones. They were both witnesses to the other's crime. Mr. Doug, a serial killer, had obviously broken into the home to commit another crime of art, while the boy who sat in front of him clearly stole the serial killer’s prize.  But they just stood there not saying a word, until the space between them grew into pitch black darkness.

 The little light that was in the room had vanished leaving them stranded in darkness. So Mr. Doug pulled out a cigarette lighter from the inside of his pocket, and held out the light between the two of them. 

As Mr. Doug's eyes adjusted to the light he could see houses off in the distance with lights shining ever so brightly, so he knew it was most likely a problem within the home.

“Do you know how to fix the lights, or-," Mr. Doug tried to ask, but without saying a word the little boy got up and left the room, so Mr. Doug followed close behind.

Mr. Doug had the only light source, and he wasn't the type to share his things. The little boy didn't have any light, so he dragged his hand across the wall to find his way through the darkness. His hand was covered with red paint, so his finger painted the wall red as he walked.

Mr. Doug could see each red smeared line as the child's fingers dragged along the wall. The child's actions made no sense to Mr. Doug. But an artist always adds a signature touch to their piece, and there was no doubt that this child was an artist, an artist just like him.