I opened the door not sure what I might find. It was dark inside, just a sliver of light shone from the window on the left traversing the floor at an angle. The drapes were drawn but hadn’t been pulled properly, maybe just a half inch slit in the center where they didn’t quite meet. My gaze followed the strip of light as it crossed the room, illuminating the carpet, the edge of the bed with the coverlet turned back, the splash of red – I sucked in a breath. Dear Lord, blood!
I stepped further into the room, approaching the bed with trepidation as to what I might see next. It was only as I stood beside the bed that I realized I hadn’t switched on the light. It was too late now, I couldn’t move away if I wanted to. The blood lay in one long streak across the coverlet, seeping from the deep wound in the side of the woman lying in the center, one arm flung wide, hand with the palm upward as if begging for help. The other arm was wrapped around her as if holding her body together.
Slowly, I let my gaze travel up her body toward her face. I was afraid to see if it was her, but I also needed to look, needed to know. Her mouth was lax, blood dribbling out of one side. A shiver went down my spine. I forced myself to look into her eyes but there was nothing of her there. Not anymore. The light had gone. I was too late.