Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

Her hair was wet now she wanted to slide down into

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Unformatted text preview: did their experiments, like two leaves on a tree. She'd arranged the utilities for the entire building herself, and all of its fifty floors were probably still lighted as she had left them. This room was dark. He'd snapped off the lights. And that had proved a mercy as the days passed. When darkness fell, she could see the dense, charmless skyscrapers through the broad windows. Sometimes the dying sun made the silvery glass buildings glow as if they were burning, and beyond against the ruby-red sky rose the high dense ever-rolling white clouds. The light, that was the thing you could always watch, the light. But at full dark when the lights came on, silently, all around her, she felt a little better. People were near, whether they knew she was there or not. Someone might come. Someone . . . Someone might stand at an office window with a pair of binoculars, but why? She began to dream again, thank God, to feel the bottom of the cycle again-"I don't care"-and imagine that she a...
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