She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. “If you were to ask me,” he would say, “I should say Blinders is straight. I’ve bored you or something. Still —there you are!” He paused. They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. I take their life. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house.
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