Evey hadn't approached him, and he realized that it was better. That he had been tensing in anticipation of her approach. He had expected her to try to comfort him. Which was what the Evey he had found first would have done. But this Evey had been hardened by things unfathomable. She knew, he realized, that it was too dangerous for her to be near him. She was too wise to think that he would refrain from hurting her while in this state.
He was thankful.
She took the backpack away, leaving the bathroom entirely. He heard her walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. Listened as she set the bag down. The metal on metal of the zipper opening was like his own spine being snapped vertebra by vertebra. The water came on. It was followed by the utterly strange sound of full bags of blood slipping from the canvas into the sink, falling on top of one another, jostling around in a gelatin fight for supremacy. In his mind's eye, Aidan felt like he could see the drops of water bouncing off and hitting the sides of the sink and the marble that surrounded it.
He was up and moving without thinking. Sprinting down the hallway like an Olympic athlete. Dodging furniture and coming to a sliding stop in the entry of the kitchen. He saw the knife gleaming, heard the ripping as it entered the first bag, and caught the scent of the blood being released into the air.
In a flash, Aidan was at her side, but not threatening. Despite all the violence he'd felt before, and the absolute certainty he'd had that he would do her harm, he found himself on his knees next to her, wrapping his arms around her legs.
"Please, don't." He looked up at her, eyes black and watery. The anguish he felt filled his voice. "Please, Evey. Please don't. Let me keep it. I need it, Evey. I need it."