You wake feeling warm, full and slightly used. These are all very pleasant in a morning. You start the day with a lazy smile and roll over, expecting your arm to fall across Clarice. She’s not there. You raise your head to look around, sleep-crazed black hair falling over your face. Your stomach has lost the definition Gemma first gave it. She spent the night converting herself into chyme and squeezing her way through your intestines, giving you a solid, heavy feeling throughout your entire abdomen.