Chapter 8
When Greg awoke, he found himself sprawled out on his stomach with blood all over him. He looked up and squinted into the dawn he saw breaking through the clouds, which meant that the day was barely beginning. He ran to the shower and began rubbing himself hard. And even though the killing blood fell off him, and ran out along with the rushing water, he still felt unclean.
It was still early, but he had to get out. He couldn’t stay here. Too much blood, too many mirrors. Too many hideous reminders of what his life had become. He didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to get dressed, get in his car, and drive, and get to his office even though his head pounded and throbbed, the thumping beat giving him an image in his head of a thousand drums falling on him. He wanted to say
