by Sangre(Lit)
" 'Us'?"
"Roger, the Canadian from down the hall. He's gone for a doctor."
"I don't need a doctor. Didn't I tell you?"
"Yeah, right before you fainted. Lie down, will you? Take it easy. How do you feel?"
"Fine. Excellent. Never better."
"Well, just stay in bed. Do you want something to drink?"
"No thanks." She lay back.
The doctor found nothing wrong with Glenda although he was puzzled by the marks on her neck. When his inquisition began to annoy her she pretended not to understand his actually quite adequate English, and pulled the sheet over her head, complaining that the light hurt her eyes and that she was very tired.
Glenda was very determined and very persuasive and came at last to be seated on a 747 headed for New York. Debbie — poor, confused Debbie — remained in Spain, travelling now with her Canadian and his friends.
"You ought at least to cable your mom, then," Debbie had said, but Glenda had shaken her head, smiling. "I'll surprise her — take a cab in." Steve would be with her mother, she knew. It would be early morning when she arrived and they would not be awake yet, but sweetly sleeping. They would be asleep in each other's arms, not expecting her.
Glenda smiled at the blackness beyond her window and touched her silver ring. She pulled it off and toyed with it, tracing the S with her finger. S for Steve, she thought, And S for Spain. She suddenly caught the ring between her fingers and pulled at it, distorting the S shape and forcing it finally into a design like twin curved horns. Then she held it and clenched it tightly until the blood came.