ELLIE
The clock on the nightstand says two forty in the morning. I have counted the beams in the ceiling four times.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the courtyard. The second attack came just after ten, close enough to the wall that I heard it through the glass. Adrian was gone within a minute. He came back near midnight with blood dried into the creases of his knuckles and told me it was handled.
Handled. Ten more of them carried through those doors, and Adrian stood in the middle of our room and told me it was handled.
I turn onto my side and look at him.
He's flat on his back with one arm thrown above his head, the sheet pushed down to his waist, and even asleep his jaw isn't loose. The firelight has burned itself down to embers, and what's left of it moves over the tattoos on hi
