Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. ” Ann Veronica looked at the mildly pensive gray eyes and the comfortable, rather refined face with a penetrating curiosity. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. I did so.
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