“He killed Beth in some crazed, angry rage . . . mistaking her for Charlotte . . . and now he’s going to kill me! The truth crystallized in Phoebe’s mind in a single, horrifying instant as she lay with her head pressed to the ground, her eyes bugging out. Quentin’s big hand remained plastered over her mouth. A surreal feeling dropped over her, like a heavy mist. As if she were trapped in a dream—her worst nightmare. Quentin loomed above her, blocking out the meager light from the lamp on the gar...age. “Stop fighting me . . . You’re like a squirming little bug. I could snap your bones with a flick of my wrist, don’t you get it? So just shut up and listen to me!” he shouted down at her. But I haven’t been talking! You have your hand over my mouth, remember? she wanted to scream back. But maybe in his head, she had been talking? Phoebe stared up at him. Her head was about to burst with all the words she wanted to shout into his stupid face. Finally, she stopped struggling and just nodded, her chin bobbing up and down like a little doll.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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