Finally, the long nightmarish weekend was over. A few hours in
Barry's warehouse had gotten the proper paperwork for Grace and Lou, and he'd even arranged a lovely house for them, in St. Louis. Present day St. Louis, so that Grace didn't have to face as much of the ugliness she'd walked away from before. And of course to make visiting so much
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"I didn't say you did," he insisted. "I'm just hanging out, that's all. In case you want to talk, or anything. You've kind of had a shitty weekend."
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Eleanor was not a girl. She was a bundle of nerves, of broken glass, of sharp edges and gaping chasms. She needed to sleep for at least a week. She needed to scream until she went hoarse. She needed to feel something. She needed to stop feeling altogether.
"There's nothing to talk about," she insisted. Her tone nearly held its sharp edge, but then wavered again. "Bloody hell, I warned you. Why didn't anyone listen to me?"
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"You should have," she said, quietly. "Don't you see? You went, and you're all -- different, now. Everything's different."
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