But he said nothing, as if I didn’t even exist. I pinched myself to make sure I did.

In her room, David leaned over Emily’s bed, studying her, tilting her head side to side, shaking his own. “Silly girl,” he said softly.

“Is it bad?” Mike stood in the middle of the room.

David took a step back, rolling Emily’s face away so we could see the sticky mess of hair and blood along the gaping surrounds of a wound across her shoulder. It looked like someone unsealed her with a can-opener then peeled back the flesh. My hand flew to my mouth, tight, to hold in the rising scream.

“That’s no bite,” David said, and I half expected his voice to be steady. “Her throat’s been all but ripped out. She went after Jason, didn’t she?”

Mike snapped from his voiceless trance and the hand to his brow seemed to push his body back to the wall. He coughed out the words, “She called him—confronted him, and he just…he attacked her.” He folded over, pressing his palms to his forehead. “Oh God. I didn’t know what to do. I knew hospital couldn’t help her.”

“No.” David stepped away from the lifeless body of my best friend and placed his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “No, you did the right thing. There’s nothing they can do for her now.”

“For God’s sake.” Mike fought for air, and as he looked at her, anger bled in the veins of his eyes. “This isn’t right. She shouldn’t look like that.”

“Mike, you need to sit.” David grabbed his arm and helped him to the floor against the wall.

My fingers twitched. Slowly, warmth crawled through the veins again. “Em?” I stroked her face, gently, weaving my fingertip over the lines of blood across her eye, nose and lip. “She isn’t gonna make it, is she, David?”

She looked so twisted and awkward, her face absent of the life, the glee it always held, even when she was sleeping. It was like someone had not only killed her, but stolen her last breath of happiness before they did.

“How could he?” I looked up at David, hovering near by, his eyes fixed on our Emily. All the things I’d started to believe about Jason—that maybe he had some small manner of humanity inside him, just slipped away—lost to this tragedy before me.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t like him, Ara,” David said, his gaze distant.

“What do you mean? He’s a monster!”

“I mean, this—” He turned Emily’s head to show the laceration, the tear that took out nearly half her throat. “This looks like an attack—something my brother was never capable of.”

“He attacked me! How can you say he—”

“He didn’t do this to you, Ara. He didn’t rip your throat out! Your bite,” he yelled, grabbing my face gently, turning it to see the mark. “Yours was a focused, calculated bite. Not this. Not Emily’s. Whatever she did, whatever she said to him, he meant to kill her—not change her.”

I rose quickly, stepping in to him.

“What do we do?” Mike asked, and everyone looked back at Emily.

“Nothing.”

I felt the terror rise in the room then, washing us all with cold realisation.

“Will she change?” Mike slid up the wall.

I waited, breathless.

“Her heart’s weak—”

A gust of air burst from Mike’s lips.

“It’s not likely she has the strength to take on the change.”

“No,” Mike’s voice was so quiet, his eyes, teared, stayed on his Emily. “She deserved better than this.”

“I know.” David placed a reassuring hand to Mike’s shoulder. “But she’s at peace now.”

The numbness incepted from the imminent death of Emily reseeded, leaving me reduced to tears, no longer holding back the quiver of my lip. And my heart only hurt more for the watching, for seeing Mike’s lip tremble too, his hands, so large, so protective, which couldn’t save Emily, couldn’t help her, slowly fall toward her, slowly lift her in his arms and cradle her as he sat in the pool of blood on her bed, rocking back and forth, unable to take it all back.

“She shouldn’t look like this, David,” Mike cried, his eyes closed. “She doesn’t belong here.”

My legs shook too much to stand; I dropped softly to my knees beside the bed and took Emily’s hand, so carefully, so as not to bend her arm backward or disturb the blood that rested there; why I felt it belonged, I don’t know. Perhaps madness stole a breath I owned for that one moment. But guilt took over like a disease, and I saw her future—the life she might’ve had if I’d not come here.

“Ara.” David touched my shoulder, squatting beside me; “You need to get Mike out of here.”

“No!” Mike raged, clutching Emily tighter. “I’m not leaving her.”

“You can’t stay here for this.” David stood. “It’s not right to watch a person die.”

“Please.” Mike’s tears fell past his lips, over Emily’s golden hair. “Please, I only just got her back. She can’t die. I can’t lose her.”

My heart felt starved for oxygen, watching Mike fall apart over Emily. This shouldn’t have happened to him. He got caught up in my world, and now, it’s hurt him like it has everyone else. “I’m sorry, Mike.” I stood and backed away, one slow, breathless step at a time.

Mike didn’t even look up.

David’s round eyes searched mine, his hand reaching to me.

No. I pressed both hands behind my back. I have to go. I can’t watch. I don’t need to see her wither away and die.

David nodded. “Wait for me in the music room,” he said softly, his voice smooth, unwavering.

My feet carried me, though I couldn’t remember the journey. I flopped on the couch by the piano and stared at a square of sunlight on the carpet.

Poor Emily. Jason bit her. Jason hurt her. Her last vision was of the boy she once loved, who talked with her about marriage and children and old age, grabbing her, and with dark eyes and a wild, hate-filled smile, hurting her.

“Oh, Em.” My head fell into my hands.

“Ara?” David slowly pulled me into his cold embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“How could he, David? How could Jason do this to her?”