The bedroom looked like a crime scene. The air was heavy with the scent of blood. My blood. With the lights on, I could see where it had pooled on the sheets, streaking the blankets. I felt my stomach churning with nausea. I was unsteady as I pulled my skirt and blouse on. My skin felt stiff and alien under my fingers, as if it were just remembering what it was to be alive.
Melinda had wanted me to see this, I realized. She'd wanted me to be afraid, to understand.
But I did understand. It was scary, but at the same time I knew that I could trust her. If only she'd let me show her that I did. This was far more than physical need now. At least for me. And I think I could see in her eyes, in all that pain, that it was more for her as well. She was thinking of herself as a monster, I knew,
