“I swear to God, if you don’t get rid of that goddam cat, I’ll kill it!” Fury from a doll, his voice not manlike and authoritative, but frail and uncompelling. “Scott, she’s not hurting you.” He dragged up a sleeve. “What’s that? Imagination?” He pointed to a ragged scar. “She was frightened when she did that.” “Well, I’m frightened too! What does she have to do, rip open my throat before you get rid of her?”
