Nine hours, Avni had been asleep. Some of those nine hours, I spent sitting at her bedside, watching her chest rise and fall steadily, watching her warm, sweet-scented blood rush through the vessel in her throat. But I couldn’t look at her for long; how her beautiful blonde hair framed her perfect face, her fingers clutching at the cold, silky sheets as she dreamed.
I couldn’t bear looking at her, and seeing everything I’d seen in some hour-long sessions with Ricardo in the basement, with Vistoc by my side, digging things out of his head and feeding them to me. All those images of Avni. The memories.
The sickest part, is he remembers loving the feel of it. Every time he hit her, abused her, he more than loved watching her sob… he adored it.
I hated it. I couldn’t stand watching the imag
