Celeste stared at James, horrified. "It has to happen," she insisted. She looked down at the cut. Her inebriated state might have been a saving grace. The knife must have come in at an awkward angle. It was deep, but small and didn't seem to penetrate further than skin-level.
"If it doesn't happen...," she continued carefully as if working through a particularly difficult mental math problem, "then I'd have to actually be someone."