[ There's no one memory that comes from touching the blood stain, but more a sense of time.

Years spent escaping from Faerie, scraping by with other young people like her, and Devin, always Devin, there being in charge, being kind, being cruel.

Plenty of bruises. And plenty of love, from Lucky, anyway.

And over all of it, a stronger sense of hurt and betrayal.

Your fingers come away with a thin smear of blood over them. ]