"Stay with me," she whispered for the first time in their marriage, in their entire acquaintance, and meant it. If he left her, she was afraid of having another nightmare. Of having to get out of bed and see her son and feel the invisible blood that coated her hands thickly as she held him and pretend nothing was wrong. Of looking George in the eye at the dinner table, and knowing they now shared a terrible secret, and that it was very likely the first of many. Of feeling so hollow that she would rot out from the inside until there was no meat to hold her body together, and her flesh would dry and wither, and she would slide apart.