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“You’re not ready, but I want to eat you, Scarlett. I want to bite you. I want to devour you.”
“Here,” Bohnes says, holding the machete in his left hand. With his right, he scoops up the pair of severed fingers and brings them over to me, offering them out on his palm with a smile.
She’s standing in the glow of the headlights with a shovel. Mm. Uh-oh. My baby’s gone and got herself into trouble, now hasn’t she?
