The twenty-four hours of solace which ensued between my startling revelations and what we would later refer to as 'the incident' were unnerving. I felt myself being pushed and pulled between two halves of a whole. On one hand, I felt immense sadness at our losses and fear of moving forward. I doubted the procedure and the prowess of my sister. On the other hand, I was already starting to feel vaguely numb and dull. In just twenty-four hours (technically more because I had slept for nearly a week) I felt myself slipping away. Shedding my skin, I was becoming something new and fearful. My incisors grew sharp and pointed and I no longer felt tired, hungry or thirsty; all I could feel was angry. The last shred of what I referred to as humanity tried to remember the sound of my mother’s voice, the glow of...

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