Chapter 19
BlisterThe evening fog in my head only partially obstructed my memories. Most days, I was barely aware of the world around me at this time, but today, the darkness cut through the sun.
Being a creature of habit, I stumbled to the kitchen for my first drink of the day. The routine was a comfort. It ensured that even on the foggiest nights, I fed enough not to snap.
Cynthia sat with a living woman at the table. As I walked in, they both stopped and looked at me. And I looked at the new face in our house.
No, not at her face, at her neck. Her blood pumped, calling to me, begging me to take a bite.
“Evening,” Cynthia said.
“Are you playing with your food,” I asked, my eyes still on the woman I had never seen before. Or had I?
“Tina isn’t food. She’s a friend.”
“If you say so
