He came to her in dreams, a pale white beauty dressed in dark silk. He was charming, too; he laughed at her jokes and kissed her palms and stroked the hollow place at the front of her throat.
She began to look forward to the night. Her days were long, and dreary, and empty. Her nights were full and bright and real.
Every night: “May I?”
One night: “Yes.”
He kissed her throat, lips warm and soft – but then they were cold and hard, and then they were not lips but teeth, and she was cold, and it was dark…