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“Is that how it works, Tabitha? Finders keepers?” Strong arms snake around my waist, and I hold on to them for balance. “It is in my world.” Spencer grunts. His arms tighten. “Well, I found you.”
Oh, god. I’m not… I’m not shiny or precious. I’m not someone people want to collect, not really. Not once they get to know me.
Maybe if I bought more jewels and hid them around my apartment, she’d visit me again. Fuck. I need therapy.
She could snap my neck and I’d die happy down here. What a way to go. Like I said. I need therapy.