None of it made any sense. Perhaps he could shed some light on it … ‘It was the first time I had ever spoken up against a kill. Time froze. I was approached by a wiccan or an angel or whoever she was and I was told my times would be different from henceforth. Well, they were … I could no longer stand the taste of human blood. The smell of it makes me recoil.’ Cassandra’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him, listening to his story. This was ridiculous but then again, this whole way of life seemed so surreal at times. ‘Your blood brother? Who?’ He shook his head ‘I can’t tell you that. Not yet. You’ll figure it out soon enough if you hang around. You’re a smart girl.’ He pushed into the sand again to gain a bit of height with the swing. It really was rather refreshing to have the cool air caressing his face. ‘It wasn’t long before they figured out I was different. I no longer joined hunting escapades. I never went out with anybody else anymore. I was shunned and humiliated … forced to. So instead of talking about it or trying to make things better, they’d both roll over without a word and after a bit of restless tossing and turning, he’d finally drift off leaving Katie in a dark, silent world of inexpressible loneliness. Somehow it was ok if only he got off, as long as someone got off. Then there was at least a sort of sacrificial quality to her frustration. Not the overwhelming sense of failure that had become more and more frequent and which inexorably chipped away bits of her self esteem and confidence. A wild chorus of barking broke out, interrupting her reverie, and she could hear the dogs race from the barn out back towards the front of the house as the distant sound of car tires crunching through gravel reached her ears. Katie shook her head slightly and blinked, a frown creased her brow and her face settled into an expression that had become all too common lately. She pushed the faded cotton curtain over the sink aside, and peered out through the dusty.
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