Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. As her belly swelled, so did he. Blood, they say, won't come out.
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