The next two days at work and at home go surprisingly well, considering the circumstances. By a creative use of soot and dirt smudges, you manage to keep your eyebrows and eyelashes looking black, and your hair stays tied away under your kerchief. Even Mrs. Tynon finds little to harass you about, as you find you are less tired than normal, and are able to carry the heavy tubs containing wet linens with greater ease. The money you stole is hidden away, with the exception of a small amount which you use to buy better food for your siblings. That and your decreased appetite has served to provide them with nearly proper meals the past two days. While you still crave blood, it is more like an itch you can't scratch than a feeling of starvation. However, it is growing bit by bit.
Three days after your first murder, there are no signs the body has been found, so you are continuing life as near to normal as you can keep it. The past few days have been cloudy, so your sensitivity to the sun has been lessened, but today, just as you finish hanging up linens to dry on the lines outside, a ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds, shining on your hand, the only part of your body not in the shadow of the drying sheets.
"Mmmph!" you grimace and groan softly, pulling your hand back in shock. The pale skin is an angry red, blisters forming as though it had been placed over a flame. You stare in shock for a moment, then hide it under your apron, hoping no one saw. Hurriedly, you return inside, but your luck has finally faltered.
"Rian, are you hurt?!" Lyres Tynon pops out of nowhere and begins to make a fuss. Exactly what you don't need. "Did you scald yourself with the hot water?"
"It's nothing, I'm fine," you insist, trying to move around him and return to your work, carefully keeping your burned hand under your apron. However, the hubbub has drawn over a bigger problem: Mrs. Tynon.
"What is going in here?" Mrs. Tynon scowls at you, then shoots a disapproving glare at her oblivious son.
"Rian was injured! She can't work like this!" Lyres blurts out, much to your chagrin.
"It's nothing, Mrs. Tynon, I am perfectly fit to work," you try to end the conversation and move to leave. Suddenly, Lyres reaches out and grabs your arm, dragging your slender hand from under your apron.
"See? She's...." Lyres trails off as he stares at your hand, which shows no sign of injury at all, not even a scar. Even you are surprised, but you don't let your face show it.
"As I said, Mrs. Tynon, I am fine," you say coldly, ignoring Lyres and shaking his hand off your arm as you return to your work. You can guess what effect this incident will have: Mrs. Tynon will assume you were pretending to be injured to gain Lyres attention. Even though you couldn't care less about that pain-in-the-neck. Anyway, you have bigger problems.
At home that evening, after the kids are asleep, you realize that you can't go on like this any longer. Any direct exposure to sunlight will agonizingly burn all exposed skin. Even if it heals rapidly, the apparent catalyst for such healing cannot be taken lightly. Your gnawing hunger for blood is back.