Thirst!
That was the first thing Tessa was aware of. She was so thirsty. But it wasn’t a thirst for water. At first she didn’t know what she wanted, then she smelled it; that sweet, coppery scent of blood.
Before, the smell of it turned her stomach. When Paula Slonski cut her palm open on a nail in the third grade, Tessa puked her guts up. From that time on, the sight and smell of blood nauseated her. Now it didn’t. Now it smelled so good she had to open her eyes to find it. It drew her like a drowning woman is drawn to that last gulp of air before sinking for the last time. Like the person seeing the oasis after
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