Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

In the morning they packed the suitcases together

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Unformatted text preview: he said. "You don't remember him, do you?" "What?" "You don't remember any of it-who Julien was or Mary Beth or Deborah, or Suzanne. You've been forgetting all along. Do you remem- ber Suzanne?" He stared at her, blanched and in a silent fury. "You don't remember," she taunted again. "You started to forget in Paris. Now you don't know who they were." He approached her, and sank down on his knees in front of her. He seemed wildly excited, the rage going into some rampant and accept- able enthusiasm. "I don't know who they were," he said. "I'm not too sure who you are! But / know now who I am!" PAST midnight, he'd wakened her in the act of rape, and when it was done, he wanted to go, to get away before anyone came to look for them. "These Mayfairs, they must be very clever people." She laughed bitterly. "And what sort of monster are you?" she asked. "You're nothing I made. I know that now. I'm not Mary Shelley!" He stopped the car and dragged her out into the high grass and struck her again and again. He struck he...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.

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