The Iron in Blood

"So, what, am I a psychopath now?" her voice rose in panic.

"No Rebecca, you are most definitely not. Just because you enjoy hurting someone when it becomes necessary, it doesn't mean that you are now going to run about murdering and torturing people indiscriminately. Intellectually you know that that would be wrong, so you will try to avoid it. But when you have to hurt someone, you will, and you won't feel bad about it. It's kind of a self defence mechanism."

She sat quietly, trying to absorb and process my reasoning, and after a while she nodded.

"I get it." But she didn't look too happy about it. "Do you think I can still go back to school now?"

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. I always expected to finish, but now it all seems so pointless. Problem is, if I drop out now, Mum will suspect the worst." She laughed suddenly. "Well, no, she couldn't, could she? She'd think I had human problems, like being pregnant or something like that." She looked at me and blushed. I tried to think of something else. Being in the same room as Rebecca Harding was difficult enough, but even thinking about her being pregnant, and how she'd get that way, well, that became excruciating. Even without factoring myself into the equation.

"I need to learn how to do this. Yesterday it didn't seem so scary. I suppose because it wasn't quite as real as it is today."

"That reminds me. I've got some iron tablets for you."

"Do I have to take them?" I knew she meant do I have to be this? "You are an iron metaboliser, Rebecca. Whether you want to be one or not. You need iron, because if you don't take it, you could die, or you could tear someone's throat out in desperation eventually." She looked shocked by my harsh words. I leaned forwards, and continued. "The best thing you can do is accept it and learn to control it." Tears were forming in her eyes. I continued, lowering my voice. "You don't have to do this alone, Rebecca. I will help you as much as I can, and my brothers will be here tomorrow evening. Marcus is good at this sort of thing. Much better than me. He makes it all sound normal. And then you've got Mark, and of course," I paused for effect, "don't forget the kitten." She giggled at that.

"What more could I ask for?" she smiled through her tears.

"Coffee."

"Yes please. But not that thick tarry muck Mark gave us yesterday." She pulled a face.

"Yeah, it was pretty grim, wasn't it?" I stood up and went into the kitchen, leaving her to think it over. She didn't really have much of a choice, but it would be easier for everyone if she were on board with us, so to speak. Especially for her. I made coffee and dug out some biscuits I'd bought the previous morning. She was sitting in the same position when I walked back carrying a tray.