VIII

the line
She woke with a start to the sound of the front door closing. A cold sweat broke on her forehead
and the back of her neck as she raised her head an inch off the table. She listened to the footsteps
as they drew closer to the kitchen, to where she sat at the table.
Effie, you missed our date. It was Vincent, thank god. She rose from her chair and turned
to face him, tears in her eyes. The images of Ida, covered in blood and her throat torn open, had
been burned into her mind. She had dreamt of the scene, felt her own throat ripped open, blood
pouring down her chest.
Im so sorry, Vincent. She threw her arms around his neck and burried her face against his
skin. I was asleep.
Asleep? I didnt make you that tired, did I? He laughed, kissing her forehead.
No, no. I had a pretty bad day. She began. After I woke up and read your letter, there was
someone in the backyard.
Are you okay? Vincents voice was heavy with concern. He led her back to the table and sat
her in the chair, pulling his own close.
No, Im fine. She had been attacked by somethingby someone. Her throat was ripped,
Vincent. She was bleeding everywhere. She looked down and realised she was still covered in the
girls blood; it had dried on her shirt, under her nails, and on her skin. She cried out and ran to the
sink, turning the water to the hottest it would go. She scrubbed her hands and picked her nails
with a knife, her tears falling into the soap and water collecting in the sink.
Vincent stood behind her, she felt his breath against her neck. His arms wrapped around
her waist and he kissed her.
Effie, its all right. Everything will be all right. Did she get to the hospital?
Of course. I called nine-one-one when I realised what had happened. I tried to stop the
blood fow, but there was so much everywhere. She stopped scrubbing and took in a shakey breath.
I want to take a shower.
Do you want company? She shook her head. I understand. Ill be down here, waiting for
you. Do you want me to make you some dinner?
Can we just go out? We dont have to go to a fancy place, Vincent. Something simple, filled
with people, bright I need a distraction.
Ill distract you just fine here, trust me. He winked. Effie gave him a weak smile, but she
made sure he understood she needed to get out of the house before she left him to take a shower.
He kissed her once more, this time on the lips, holding her close.

Vincent held the door open for her as she moved passed him. She thanked him with a nod and
reached for his hand. She was glad he had agreed to take her somewhere small but busy, and
Morgans was perfect in her mind.
The restaurant was primarily a coffee shop, but they were open late every night and they
served a few dishes throughout the day. The hostess sat them in a corner booth and took their
drink ordersEffie ordered a chai latte and Vincent ordered a hot tea. They sat in silence, reading
the menu, their legs touching under the table.
Ill have the quiche. Effie broke the silence causing Vincent to look up from his menu.
Sounds perfect. Why dont we get a full quiche, and we can take whatever we dont eat
home.
You know me so well. She laughed. She caught herself, but kept her thoughts internalised.
He didnt know her, not as well as her statement had implied. Why would she say that? He looked
at her with an eyebrow raised and a lopsided grin.
When the waitress arrived to take their order, he handed the menus over and ordered a full
spinach and mushroom quichehe must have known her better than she thought, perhaps she
had told him at some point that she preferred spinach and mushroom quiche. She couldnt
remember. She pushed the thoughts away from her head and drank her latte, savouring the
warmth and comfort it gave her.
They remained silent for much of the meal, but always their legs were touching, giving her
a sense of comfort and connection without having to fill the air with idle chatter. It was a blessing
to have someone understand her need for silence while still providing the necessary company.
Im sorry Im not much of a date tonight. She broke the silence. He looked up from his
plate and shook his head.
Dont apologise, Effie. You went through an ordeal today, you are clearly traumatised by
the event. I would be too, had I experienced it. His voice was comforting, and it gave her a ledge of
balance to hold onto as she screamed and craved and thrashed in her mind. Waking up, covered in
blood, to find him in her kitchen, ready to love her was one thingthe girl who had almost died in
her arms had destroyed most of her strength, and she was craving the sweet release of her friend,
heroin.
Are you ready to head home? She asked, putting her fork on the plate. She wiped her face
and placed her napkin beside her silverware.
Of course, darling. Ill meet you at the car? She nodded and folded the lid of the quiche box
closed. As she left the restraurant, the cool wind bit her exposed skin and sent a chill down her
spine. What had ripped the girls neck and left her to die? Had it been a wild animal, or was it
something more intelligent, playing with its prey?

She thrashed against the sheets, kicked at the bed, beat at the wall. She couldnt stop dreaming
about the girl, her crimson blood bright against her skin, contrasting the green of the forest. But it
wasnt the girl she was seeing now, it was herself. She had the torn throat, the red pouring down
her her own chest, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.
Help me. She called into the forest, but her voice was broken. She tried to scream, but only
a gurgled choke escaped her lips. She tripped over an exposed root and fell to the forest floor. Dirt

covered her wound, ground into her flesh. She cried against the ground, weak from bloodloss and
running from whatever had wounded her.
Effie, why are you running? A voice called from behind her. She refused to turn around,
refused to see the face of her attacker. You dont need to fear me, Effie. Let me take away the pain,
forever. Youll never feel it again.
The promise of pain relief flooded her mind. She fought herself not to look, but her head
turned around and she gasped, as well as she could with a gaping hole in her neck.
Vincent stood over her, covered in her blood, a look of desire and hunger in his eyes. The
same eyes and the same face from the dream of the deer.
Its time to make a decision, Effie. Will you cross the line? He offered her his wristan
open wound poured blood that dripped to the ground making an audible sound that echoed in her
head. She fought for a moment against the urge to relieve herself of pain, but her survival instinct
won. She reached up and grabbed his wrist and placed the wound in her mouth, drinking in that
which gave him life.