Why had he done that? The sewing kit had a whole spool of thread it wouldn’t have taken all of it to sew her up. Was Xander going to use all of it? He would be dead if he needed to stitch that many wounds shut. What about clothing? He could use it on clothing but did he let someone die over ripped clothing? That was even worse!
You know why you killed her... Some detached part of his brain whispered to him.
No, not kill, let die! There was a difference Xander told himself. But his conscious arguments didn’t even ripple that distant part of himself that judged.
The thoughts circled through Xander’s head like vultures over a corpse. Mona’s corpse. They wouldn’t start spinning, and in the darkness there was little other feedback to break their vicious chain, just darkness and the brush of smooth and rough rock beneath the fingertips he kept on the wall to his left. Occasionally the floor became too rough and uneven with stalactites and rocks that he ha