She desperately wanted to ask what changed his mind, but wasn't brave enough. Maybe he didn't want to hurt her. Maybe he had a conscience after all. Whatever veneer of civilization clung to Daniel Mercer, however, was extremely thin and easily discarded.
His fingers brushed across her eyelids. Her eyes fluttered open and stared blankly up at him. His arm rested behind her head and she could feel his fist clenching in the soft hair that spilled across his pillows. She noticed he liked to touch her hair, but seemed to have to stop himself from just grabbing it.
They laid that way for a while, the silence tense to her ears. She was used to directing conversations, to maintaining happy chatter and listening to music almost constantly. The quiet, which she sensed Daniel habitually surrounded
