If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. The Vorsack house bore the stamp of Diane in every visible spot. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside. Not for me. Now she drags me to Mass twice a week, and I have to be in the Church Youth Group on Tuesday nights where we study the Bible and play sports games with each other. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. He was every bit as much a pig as this Emile.
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