and she focuses on his gaping eye and thinks , please , please , i do n't wan na , i do n't wan na , he ai n't mine , please don't-but it 's too late , and before she knows it her right arm has shot up and the fingers of her hand have latched on behind the decaying skin of his ear and her thumb like a spike drives itself into that lidless exposed orb and it feels like a ripe peach , clear fluid trickling down her palm and her wrist , and then the blood starts coming .