Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

It was spectacular this little performance in which

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Unformatted text preview: ot kill him. He was too strong; the membranes of the cells were too strong; the osteoblasts swarming at their acceler- ated rate, just as everything within him worked at that rate, defensively and aggressively. Oh, if only she had had more of a chance to analyze these cells! If only, if only . . . 207 "Is that all I am to you?" he said, his lip quivering. "Oh, God, what am I? A mere experiment?" "And what am I to you that you hold me prisoner here, and leave me for days on end like this? Don't ask love of me. You're a fool if you do. Oh, if only I had learned from the others, learned how to be a real witch! I could have done what they wanted of me." He was convulsed with silent hurt. The tears stood in his eyes, and his pliant glistening skin flamed with blood for an instant. He made his long hands into fists as if he would hit her again, as he had in the past, though he'd vowed he never would again. She did not care. That was the horror. Her own limbs were failing her; tingling, aching; pains in her joints. Could she have escaped from...
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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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