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Every woman lives with an undercurrent of fear just beneath the surface of her life. You don’t think about it all the time, but a sudden noise, a stranger’s glance, an unwanted touch, can bring it rushing to the surface.
Sibyl Adams, a professor at the college, sat on the toilet. Her head was tilted back against the tiled wall, her eyes closed. Her pants were pulled down around her ankles, legs splayed wide open. She had been stabbed in the abdomen. Blood filled the toilet between her legs, dripping onto the tiled floor.
“A pediatrician, a lawyer, and a priest were on the Titanic when it started to go down,” he began. “The pediatrician says, ‘Save the children.’ The lawyer says, ‘Fuck the children!’ And the priest says, ‘Do we have time?’”
I AM DEAD
Since Jeffrey had cheated on Sara with the only sign maker in town, it was doubtful that the lettering would be more professionally fixed anytime soon.
“There was vaginal penetration after he raped the wound.”
ughhh
“To check on you,” he said. “Obviously you’re all right. I guess that should come as no surprise to me. You’re always all right.” “That’s right.” “Sara Linton, stronger than steel.”
Jeb looked back into the pharmacy, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry about what happened, too. You know, with the girl.” He shook his head slowly side to side. “It’s just hard to think about things like that happening in your own town.”
Is it Jeb?! Update.. IT WAS JEB
a set of long-handled pruning shears one would normally find in a garage by the lawn mower. Cathy Linton had a similar set for herself, and whenever Sara saw her mother pruning azaleas she always thought about using the shears at the morgue to cut away the rib cage.
Well damn
“Jeffrey is a policeman.” Sara put her hand to her chest. “I know that.” “You’re so beautiful,” Tessa said. “And you’re smart and you’re funny and you’re tall.” Sara laughed so that she wouldn’t cry. “And this time twelve years ago, you were raped,” Tessa finished. “I know that.” “He sends you postcards every year, Sara. He knows where you live.” “I know that.” “Sara,” Tessa began, a begging quality to her voice. “You have to tell Jeffrey.” “I can’t.” Tessa stood firm. “You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s the part that hurts, isn’t it? The part where you feel like you don’t matter to him as much as you used to.”
