Novalee didn't sleep. Didn't cry. Didn't move.
She lay in Dante's bed, staring at the ceiling. Covered in James's dried blood. His blood crusted in her hair, under her fingernails, in the creases of her skin.
Dante carried her to the bathroom. Filled the tub with warm water.
She didn't resist. Didn't help. Just hung limp in his arms like a corpse.
He lowered her into the water. She sat there. Staring at nothing. Water rising around her.
He washed her. Carefully. Gently. Like she was made of glass.
The water turned pink. Then red. Then dark.
James's blood swirling down the drain.
He washed her hair. Scrubbed under her nails. Got every trace of blood from her skin.
She didn't react. Didn't blink when water ran over her face. Didn't move when he tilted her head back.
Catatonic but c
