Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. “She must go her own way. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming.
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