The bedroom looked like a crime scene. The air was heavy with the scent of blood. My blood. With the lights on, I could see where it had pooled on the sheets, streaking the blankets. I felt my stomach churning with nausea. I was unsteady as I pulled my skirt and blouse on. My skin felt stiff and alien under my fingers, as if it were just remembering what it was to be alive.

Melinda had wanted me to see this, I realized. She’d wanted me to be afraid, to understand. ...