I realized what she meant by "monster"—the car. The hulking, unfamiliar machine that must have seemed like some kind of beast to her. The way it roared, the way it moved without legs, the way it carried them here—it was no wonder she was terrified. And the treehouse, the clothes, the guns—all of it was beyond anything she'd ever seen.
Mary's lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as her gaze raked over Helen, lingering on her trembling form with a hunger that made my skin crawl.
She licked her lips, her tongue tracing the curve of her mouth in a way that was deliberately provocative, her eyes dark with something far more sinister than amusement.
"Sister," she purred, her voice dripping with lustful suggestion, "why don't we do this...?" She turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to Veronica before locking back onto Helen.
