She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. ’ ‘What, even less delightful than Gerald?’ enquired Lucilla, her eyes dancing. Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. I will tell you what you shall give me, if you like. "Water!" he gasped.
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