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The dripping noise, that had sounded for about three minutes so far, was driving Annabel crazy.
“Did toi forget to close the tap?” she asked annoyed. There was a washing table, tableau against the wall, opposite Deb’s bed.
Deb didn’t reply.
“Great” Annabel mumbled, and she swung her legs off the bed, and put her feet on the ground. She cursed, when she stepped into something wet and tepid.
She reached for her lamp, and switched it on. When she realized she was standing in a puddle of blood, and Deb’s bleeding wrist hung lifelessly over the edge of the latter’s bed, she moaned.
She strolled...