But then there was that face. That huge blotch on her face. It was really hard to look at. And she’d done something to it too; it wasn’t just a giant port-wine-stain birthmark, she’d messed with it too; she’d outlined the edges of it in some kind of very fine and very elaborate stippling. Like dots of rainbow ink, that shimmered. Jane had never seen anything like it. She found it frightening.