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... er. So maybe I cry a little. Because I don’t know or understand what he is talking about, but the pain, the anger, I feel it thick in the bond.
I wait for him, so we can talk about it. Because I’m done waiting, like Margot suggested. If I was a bitch, I want to know. If I was mean and vile like Lucien says I was, I want to know.
But he doesn’t return at all that night, leaving me out there, freezing my butt off when the fire eventually died out. Between the strange howls, hoots a ...
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