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Unformatted text preview: much? Just for trying to be alive?" "You killed her," Michael whispered. It was such a small, insignifi- cant sound. "You did that to her. You killed our child." "Don't you want to know my side of it, Father?" said the creature. "I want to kill you," said Michael. "Oh, come now. Can you be so cold and unfeeling? Can you not care what was done to me? Can you not care why I am here? Do you think I meant to hurt her?" Grasping the mantelpiece with one hand and Aaron's hand with the other, Michael finally managed to get to his feet. He was weak all over, almost nauseated. He stood there, breathing slowly, thankful that the pain was gone, and staring at Lasher. How beautiful the smooth face, how beautiful the soft black mus- tache and the close-cut beard. The Jesus of Durer's painting. And the deepest most exquisite blue eyes, mirrors to some unfathomable and seemingly wondrous soul. "Oh yes, Michael, you want to know. You want to hear everything. And they will not let you kill me, will you, gen...
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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.
- Spring '10