She threw me over the edge. She threw me.
Why am I still alive? That should have been more than enough of a fall — and onto a marble floor — to break every bone in my body.
Last night: the party at the Four Seasons, introductions made, a handshake held a bit too long, a look in the eye from a bit too close; subtle perfume and champagne and intimations; limo back to her mansion in the hills, looking around, assuming she was an heiress.
And then she bit me. Bit me…
Oh. I understand now. I'm not alive at all.