Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

Daylight does not lend itself to terror: objects and people are plain to see; and we encounter there only those things which dare to show themselves in the glare of day. But night, opaque night denser than walls, night, empty and infinite and so black and fathomless that terrifying things reach out and touch us, night when we feel horror stirring, mysteriously prowling__ight seemed to him to hide some unknown, imminent, threatening danger. What could it be?

There are some days we can claim and there are other days that claim us.

Day leans in toward me. He reaches up to touch my face. I can tell it still hurts him to use his fingers, and his nails are dark with dried blood. "You're brilliant," he says. "But you're a fool to stay wish someone like me."I close my eyes at the touch of his hand. "Then we're both fools.

Depression is evil. Before you know it, it takes over and there's no escaping it.

I know I'm the one who put limits on this... this thing," she said, and bit her lower lip, suddenly nervous. "But I'm pretty sure we're not quite done with each other." He looked at her for what felt like a long time. "You want another night." Still unable to take her eyes off his mouth, she didn't muzzle herself. "I want as long as it takes." He cupped her jaw, lifting her head up so that she was looking into his eyes again. "Don't make promises you can't keep." "What makes you think I can't keep it?" "Because you seem to like things one night at a time," he said in that low, sexy voice. "But no way is one more night going to be enough.