I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. He's passed through some rough mental torture. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. Perhaps he had heard of this Enschede. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. And she would have to go tomorrow. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks.
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