I looked at Derek. “She’s always been a really light sleeper. If she wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, she’ll get up and start working on her sculptures.”

Even when she was young, Robin didn’t sleep through the night. My mom used to think it was because she was worried about her own mother.

“I woke up,” Robin continued slowly. “I needed to use the bathroom. I was so sleepy. Groggy, you know?”

She sought our acknowledgment after every other sentence, so at this, Derek nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“I came back to bed. I was so sleepy, I almost tripped over a pillow on the floor. I picked it up. There were marks on it, like… like dirt streaks. It was weird. I could barely keep my eyes open, but you know how I get a little anal retentive about things.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, relieved that small pieces of her personality seemed to be returning.

“I didn’t want to wake Alex by turning on the bedroom light, so I took the pillow into the bathroom to look at it.”

She swallowed, started to sniffle; then one teardrop fell, followed by another as she continued. “It… it was blood. I thought maybe he’d cut himself. Then… then I happened to look in the mirror. I screamed. I had blood on my face. Clumped in my hair. On my hands.”

She stopped to try to swallow again. For a second or two, I thought she might throw up. I felt close to it myself.

“I ran back to check on Alex and saw more streaks on the sheets. There was enough light coming in from the street that I could see dark streaks and… and blotches. Everywhere. I yelled his name to wake him up, then shook him. I flipped the light on and that’s when I saw…”

“What did you see?” Derek asked with remarkable calm.

She covered her face with both hands. “I was so afraid. I hated to leave him, but I had to get out of there. I ran. I’m so ashamed.”

“Tell me what you saw before you ran,” Derek said evenly.