Marc watched her worriedly. "It's because she's been through this before," the Marine inside stated. "This hell isn't new to her."

The heat where she was standing was beginning to scorch the ends of her wild hair, and Marc took her gently by the arm, led her back to the Blazer. "Come on, Honey. Let's get out of here."

She didn't respond, but didn't flinch or resist either, and a minute later, the fire's glow was falling behind them. When she began to cry huge, silent tears, Marc moved the towels closer and left her alone. This was her First Kill, and his heart ached for her, remembering his own. He'd thrown up afterward until his stomach hurt.

"Stop!"

He hit the brakes and her door swung open just in time to avoid the hot streams that flew from her mouth.

Marc put it in park and got out to give her some privacy as she emptied some of her pain. His eyes watched the fog rolling over a dark, foreign landscape where anything or anyone might lurk, listening. She'd been hurt on his watch.

7

Angela sat with her knees to her chest, sipping water and pushing away flash after horrible flash in her mind. She was hurting, horrified, ashamed, guilty, and still full of furious rage. She wanted to go back and shoot him again!

Her years of abuse had filled her mind as she was attacked, and it had been Kenny's face she was seeing as she pulled the trigger…always Kenny. In that instant, she had seen the true feelings of the old Angela, and not only was there no way that girl would ever let him touch her again, she also knew both of the females inside wanted him dead. More importantly, if he pushed her enough, hurt her enough, she could do it.

Angela shuddered as the man's cold, dead eyes slammed into her mind, and she wished again that she could kill him twice.

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Marc walked a wide perimeter, the wolf watching from the roof. After a while, he heard sounds that told him she was changing and cleaning herself up. Good. She'd have to feel a little better with the man's stink off of her skin.

"Will you help me with my hair?"

Her voice was shaky, and Marc moved slowly to the jug at her feet, keeping his eyes on the fog-covered ground. "Hold the door and tilt your head back."

She did it with her eyes closed, standing with only a large white beach-towel around her naked body, and he was shocked by her trust in him as he lathered her hair, face, and neck, avoiding her slender shoulders.