Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. He did not have to. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. " "I'll take my chance," replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile.
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