When Wanda returned home from seeing Wicked she was drained, physically and emotionally. Tired of struggling, tired of being afraid, just tired. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and sleep for days. The worst part was knowing she couldn't, that giving into unconsciousness would give the demon free reign. There could be no relief for her until Daimon returned. Until then, she had to make herself safe, figure out how to lock herself up so that when the monster gained control again it would do no damage. She'd taken the first step in going for help and so, she'd resolved, she would confess what was happening to Jessica and ask her advice. Wanda simply could no longer go through this alone.
"Jessica?" she called out as she entered their quarters. "Jess?" she didn't immediately see her roommate, and an uneasy feeling came over her as she stepped into the hallway. Wanda's bedroom door was open. She hadn't left it open. The stench of decay hit her a few feet into the hall and she gagged, covering her face with her hand (the demon cackled, gleeful, in her head- whatever this was, it was the monster's doing). An irrational fear came over her, brought another round of tears to string her eyes. What if Jessica was dead in there? What if she'd killed her and didn't remember doing it?
With a force of will, Wanda stepped over the threshold and nearly retched. "My god," she gasped, horrified, at the carnage spread over her bedroom floor.