I look at the spot where I sat. The teal sofa is drenched with blood. “No . . . no.” My knees wobble like they’re about to give out. I sit on the couch again as blood continues to pour out of me. “My God,” Rafael says, kneeling at my feet. This scene is so parallel to one he experienced before. I’m not certain how he’s going to react. “I did this.”
HASNT HE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH ??
