‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. An electric light flashed out from the wall. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. ’ Melusine glared.
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