I feel myself approach the point of no return. Orteza must be watching me do this, because she says, “You know if it wasn’t for that hair color, you’d look just like…”
“I know,” I cut her off. And what happens if we do succeed, and we survive long enough to make it to the rendezvous? I chose the path without mercy, causing the deaths of many, and became a goddess to the weak, to the diminished. Then he gives in. Once again I screamed – horror at the inevitability that I would shortly be engulfed, and devoured. She was looking down in horror at her breasts, which overnight had started oozing milk. Bracing myself for the pain is pointless. “I’ll report you,” I said quietly. His odor is unpleasant, and it lingers, clinging to me long after he’s finished. He was the rapist, but she had callously sold me to him for her own gain. I wasn’t afraid. But we’ll track her down one day.
