The ache in my lower belly had turned into a hard line. I had to get to the master bath or I wouldn’t even be able to crawl.
I moved along the edge of the bed, no light. When I sat down, my thighs shook so bad I could barely stay upright. The soap smell hit me and I almost threw up again.
I couldn’t touch the glass by the bed.
Daniel never brings me water before sleep. Tonight it sat too straight, too centered — placed there for someone to drink.
I crawled back into the bedroom. On my way up, my fingers hit something hard by the edge of the rug.
A little plastic cap. A needle cap.
The inside of the cap was still wet. I rubbed it with my fingertip. Cold. Slick. Two dark red dots on the carpet. One of them still wet — blood, just wiped off a needle.
