Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away.
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