It was the blood from a gash in the side of her head. It was where all that sickening dizziness and pain was the worse. She rinsed her hand in the clear, cold water surrounding her and then pressed it against the gash and the bump that was quickly rising below her skin. She was so tired, so, so very tired, though the shivering wasn’t hurting her anymore. Her eyes closed and she felt a sense of helplessness. She knew the cold water and wet clothes would sap her strength, finally killing her when she could no longer force herself awake. But she could rest her eyes for a minute. Just a minute to gather strength before trying to escape once more. She wanted to whisper a silent good-bye to her family, her loved ones, but she couldn’t think of anything but the pain. A whimper came from her throat and she brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and laid her face against her knees. She started to drift as the shivering began to fade from her memory. Darkness beckoned. * * * *. Gulping down some more whiskey, which made her head spin more wildly than ever although it did help to deaden her nerves, she focused her glazed eyes on Larry Johnson's tall, broad-shouldered figure hurrying toward the bathroom.I have to get something else on, even though Larry's been too nice to say anything about the disgraceful way I look, she told herself; but somehow she couldn't summon up the energy to move from her prone position. At last, just as she spotted her husband's friend returning with towel and Merthiolate bottle in hand, she reached up to pull the afghan throw rug from the back of the sofa over her exposed loins. The violet and blue shawl, which she'd crocheted herself from an easy-to-sew pattern composed of more empty spaces than threads, made her feel less obscene without hiding any of her sensual charms."Now how am I going to get at that cut with that blanket over you?"Larry flicked away the flimsy token of modesty and with an eagerness he tried to disguise ran.
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