Pride welled up inside her. She knew she was still in danger - perhaps more than she'd been in her life - but at the same time, she knew Peter could get her out if it came to that. And Aidan... Aidan was proving himself to be everything she knew he could. She'd take the bruises if it meant he kept fighting for her. For himself. But also for her. When he yelled at her, she stopped being careful with the bags, stacked the remainders on top of each other under the tap water, and drove the knife as fast and hard as she could down into the center.
It was fast enough to pierce through all but one of the bags, and then all she had to do was press. She shoved her arms into the sink and barred them down on top of each punctured bag, leaning into it with all her strength. The smell of the blood was nauseating. It was everywhere, and she was desperate to get it all down the sink. There was so much red. She hated how it clung to her skin. She didn't rinse off, not yet, not until it was all out of the bags. One more left, just one - and she got the knife back into her hand and finished it off while her left elbow pressed into the only other one.
"She wore your jacket everywhere," Evey said, while she worked, trying to pull everything out of her heart that she'd buried along with Aidan. "When you had to leave die Festung. It didn't fit, but it smelled like you, and even when it stopped smelling like you, it still made her feel like you were close. When you came by that last night, she tried very hard to stay awake so she didn't miss a second spent with you. She was so disappointed with herself in the morning, and wished she could have had more time. She wished she told you how she felt. She wished she found a way to say it."
The blood was out of the bags. Evey was washing the rest of it down the drain...and off her skin. Her hands were moving so quickly, she couldn't see them shaking. Evey grabbed the liquid dish detergent and squirted it into the sink and started drowning the scent from the drain itself.