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“Please tell me I did not cleverly escape my captivity only to discover I was mere moments from being rescued,” I say. When August speaks, his voice is a croak, but a sparkle lights his tired eyes. “Would you have rather been rescued, Rosie? You have never struck me as the type.”
He hurt me, and I am still here. It is not an unforgivable trespass. It is simply one that must be acknowledged.
