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Her shoulders shook and her face was a painful mask of hurt. She would wipe at her eyes and then tuck her hands back under her arms.Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I mean, fuck.I pulled to the side, watching her walk in the lights. I jumped out and ran up to her."Get in the car, Beth," I said. Gently? I tried. I don't know. She just kept crying and walking."Beth," I said. "Come on. Just get in the car." I tried to take her arm, but she yanked it away and kept going."You can't walk all the way home, Beth." I walked after her. "Dammit, get in the car. Just stop it."She stopped walking but didn't stop crying. I walked around in front of her again. I was getting angry and just wanted to leave. Screw the party, I didn't care about that anymore."Why are you so mean to me?" she cried softly."What?" My mouth went dry and I felt numb. The way she said it. Awful."Why are you so mean to me? Why do you hate me?" she sobbed."I - I don't hate you." Yes you do," she said earnestly. "You do." Beth,". You think I'm lying right? Well I'm not — I'm just stupid. When I was 12, I tried to French kiss my mom — she gently pushed me away and kissed me chastely before turning back to her book. When I was 14, after a girls-night-out right after her divorce from dad, she came home drunk and lay snoring on the couch — where her very own son, with heart pounding so loud she would have heard it if not passed out, I lifted the back of her skirt to expose her tanned nylons and white cotton pantie beneath, then I fondled her thighs and even her bottom, smelling her the musky smell of her bottom generously before spilling not one but two loads of sperm on her lower thigh and the carpet where I knelt. Then there was the time I tried to spike her milk shake with grandma's sleeping pills, she went to sleep early, but when I snuck in she woke up and I mumbled an excuse before rushing out. I'm that stupid.Getting the picture yet? It's a pattern born out of desperation.More recently I was under the.
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Amelia transferred to my house to see if I could help her rescue you,” Sylvia told him.“Transferred?” he asked in a surprised voice.“Yes, the ‘Book’ appeared when she called my name, and it opened to a spell which she read and traced the glyph to arrive in my living room,” she told him, and held up the ‘Book of Dreams’ that she was still holding.“The spell was in English?” Greg asked in surprise. “I didn’t think there were any spells in English in the ‘Book’,” he added.“There aren’t any spells in English in the ‘Book’. The spell was in Gaelic, just as the spell to return through your wards is in the ‘Book’,” Sylvia told him to a deep frown.“You could read it in Gaelic, Amelia?” he asked in surprise before the remainder of what Sylvia had said registered.“What do you mean ‘the spell to return through my wards is in the ‘Book’?” he inquired in surprise.“It’s right here,” she told him, and showed him the page, which slowly faded to a blank page as we watched it.“I can read it at least.

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