Michelle looked like she was about to throw up herself. " In an angle of the Stone Hall was the Iron Hold, a chamber containing a vast assortment of fetters and handcuffs of all weights and sizes. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. But don't let my name frighten you. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. The rest was easy. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer.
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