Theroen had taught her love, joy, and the pulsing ecstasy of the blood. Stephen gave her only pain, and pain, and pain. In the end, though, he gave her strength, and as this was what she had asked him for, Two felt that she could not complain. It took nearly eight months, but Stephen reshaped her body. He did it in a way completely unlike how Theroen’s blood had changed her. Stephen’s way was gradual – grueling and slow. For the first two weeks, Two cried herself to sleep, thankful that she had gone to bed each night, exhausted, before Naomi had arrived home to see her in this state. There were times, especially early on, when she wanted to give up, wanted to beg Stephen to call it off. Please, she imagined saying. Please, it’s too much and I can’t stand it. She was taking more than a dozen Advil each day, for God’s sake, and couldn’t he please just let her skip the running for once, or the weights? During these times, with Stephen running next to her, or standing over her as she lifted, Two would bite her lips to keep from speaking.
