Horrifyingly, Oliver could see it. The picture Collins painted was one familiar to him, one that stalked him like a stubborn, looming storm. He saw himself trapped in a suffocating dress with a busk biting into his chest and drowning in petticoats; Mr. Collins, referring to Oliver as his wife, calling him Elizabeth endlessly, speaking to Oliver all day every day without any chance of respite; sharing a bed with Mr. Collins, bearing his children; his body contorting and changing in ways that made him sick to think about as he was forced to carry a child he never wanted to have. The prospect of
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