Pressing the cloth to her arm relieved the sting of pain but transmuted it into a dull ache. She was pretty sure, come tomorrow - if there was a tomorrow - it wouldn't just be cut but bruised as well. It would really suck if she didn't live to see tomorrow. Her family would worry. They were probably worried now. Last time she'd disappeared... well, it wasn't worth dwelling on. They'd get through it.
Yeah, that's what she was afraid of - that he'd see her eyes as black too. What was she supposed to do now? It wasn't like she could pull off just telling him she wasn't a demon. That issue was just too damn complex and laced with so much doubt that he'd read it as a lie. Even if she did tell him though, he had no reason to believe her. No one seemed to believe anyone right now. So, knowing her situation was bad and that she probably should be watching her back, Sunshine decided to do something different. She'd check for herself what her eyes looked like to her. It was just a small turn of the head to stare into the mirror. Sunshine looked, really looked, waiting to see if what she saw would change. Still pressing the washcloth to her arm, she flatly told Sam, "They don't look black to me." She looked the reflection of his eyes in the glass. "Yours do though." Alright, so either he'd listen to her or he'd kill her. It was kinda worth the effort on her part then, right? "What do your eyes look like to you?"
At some point tonight, Sunshine's brain and snapped over into her version of survival mode. Finding Sam as a demon, knowing there was not one damn person who knew where she was or would come to her rescue, she embraced what she knew to be her false acceptance of death. Like before, it was felt like, 'well, damn.' Like she'd spent all day baking an amazing birthday cake for her boyfriend, only to drop it once it was finished. It sucked, but that was it. No elaborate struggle with weeping and wailing and possible maiming on her part. It was a kind of resolve, but she also knew it wasn't real. If her mind would let her process the chance that she actually might die in all this, she'd have been acting differently. As it was, she could more or less handle reasonable conversation - for now at least. Her arm was beginning to throb, which she was pretty sure was a bad thing. She wished she'd have looked for medical supplies before Sam had gotten there. Would have been smart to. Damn. Today just wasn't going her way.
"If either one of us were a demon, would we know it ourselves?" That seemed to be a very sensible question to her. No one else seemed to be asking it though. Everyone went around insisting they knew. Well, maybe they hadn't struggled with the concept in the past the way she had. It probably went back to the whole part where their demons were different than hers.