Voice One: And I saw it then, the face of a monster. Like looking into a mirror. A foul gray moment as she railed and howled, beating at her face and head with closed and furious fists, white spittle frothing in the corners of her mouth, hands, demented, tearing her hair; that thick dark mane that had for so long fascinated me. Fingers, hooked and ugly with rage, gripping her temples, hair like snakes. Such a horrid mimicry of my own hands running reverently through those silky tresses that I loved, had loved so much. And as I watched her beloved face transform, become my own, I was overwhelmed with a sudden shocking indifference.
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