\" She thought of her kill. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. “Hold on, she’s right here. I can't help looking at you frequently. ” Ennison laughed softly. Apparently he did not see his recent companions.
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