Splotches of red had thoroughly stained the jeans. Phoebe stood in front of the washing machine and turned them over in her hands, examining the marred fabric. They were a casualty of Silver’s latest meal; she hadn’t realized how much blood had been running down her arms until she’d finished feeding him. Yuli--ever-present--hadn’t mentioned the plate after that first day, preferring to watch Phoebe rather than speak with her.
Energy readings had become a frequent occurrence. With each passing day there were fewer connections between herself and Silver as their bond decayed at a steady rate. She grew more and more aware of her body as her “condition” progressed. Any odd feeling increased her sense of anticipation: heart palpitations, pangs in her side, unexpected cramps.
Their time was almost up. Julia and Yuli were both restless, and Silver dangerously so; though Phoebe didn’t want to admit it, she knew that he'd have to rejoin her soon. Bluebell had removed her stitches, but she was still left with the same scar.
The laundry was upstairs, tucked into a nook near Julia’s and Cat’s rooms. There was a window which looked out over the backyard, and Phoebe watched a group of bucks graze song Avernus’ treeline as she thought about what she should do. But her ears swiveled towards the sound of Cat as he opened the front door and immediately ascended the stairs, passing her and heading down the hall.
“Kirk, I need to speak with you.” She heard him knocking on the door to the guest bedroom followed by the sound of a knob turning. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”
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