Why here? he asked. I was his spark now, and I didn't know how to fix this. The question was, would it break me, and if so, how much? Jean-Claude's echo in my head was, Perhaps it will not break you, ma petite, perhaps it will heal you, and him. Have you ever watched someone eat bread with teeth that are designed for tearing out the throats of gazelles? It was interesting.
Requiem raised his head against my body, so that the top of his head brushed my breasts, but through the leather jacket it wasn't much of a touch. Panic fluttered in my chest, and I knew that panic would be a bad emotion to take behind that melting door. The bra went in that pile. He'd raped Richard's mother, if I could have I'd have killed him slower, but that wasn't in me, not even for what he'd done.
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