If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. Michelle had warned her of the girl, calling her “Bitchster”. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. A town called Foster.
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